


Book One: The Hunter and the Templar

by BurneHazard



Series: The Demon Hunter [1]
Category: Diablo III
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bloodplay, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 124,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurneHazard/pseuds/BurneHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The path of the Demon Hunter is fraught with darkness, danger, and hatred. Throw a blundering, light-loving templar in...and survival suddenly became a lot more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it. Prior posting of this story can be found on AFF.net under the same pen-name. The only reward I will ever receive by publishing this is the commentary and feedback from readers.

_My name is Killashandra. I am a Demon Hunter. There is nothing special about me aside from the fact that my goal in this life and whatever follows it is to destroy any and all demons I find plaguing humanity. I am not alone in this. But for whatever reason, those who found me as that poor child seem to believe there is something inside me destined to see this task through. My father always did say I was more stubborn than my mother. A fact that always made me laugh and him smile._

_Just remembering those times--and how they were all ripped away from me in one violent, bloody moment--is it any wonder that my hatred for demons runs so strong? It was the first time I realized that the concept of Time is relative. The moment lasted far longer to the perception of the world than it did for me. All that I remember are the screams, the pain, the terror. And just remembering makes my blood burn with rage._

_I journeyed to New Tristram, as several of my colleagues did, to follow the path of a falling star that brought the dead back to life in twisted, cursed forms that screamed of demonic power. Where there is such cursed abominations and terror, there will be demons. My skills are still being honed, but I am strong. I am not afraid. I will have my vengeance for what they did to my family. For what they did to me._

_Maybe I am just human. But if terror, pain, and death are what demons seek...I shall not disappoint them..._


	2. Musings

           _I have been in New Tristram for a few days. I must admit that somehow it was not what I expected. And sadly, it seems that it has already been too much for those I journeyed with. We were ambushed on the road by a horde of undead. As a child I'd once dreamt of such creatures but it was nothing like seeing them before me or inhaling the putrid stench of rot and decay that left a sickening-sweet, rancid taste in my mouth and the back of my throat._

_Still, my companions did show their skills. It is because of their aid that I survived. Perhaps I am lucky. It is a pity they were not. But they died in the way that they wished. My initial reaction was far less than I'd hoped. I was clumsy and inept. Yet I am here. And now my hatred is even stronger. The only thing staying it is my conditioning. My hatred has a target. It will be focused and I will use it as the weapon it is. A weapon against demons._

_My temper is very short so I chose to keep my distance from the people who have managed to survive and turn the village into a shoddy if serviceable fortification. It will not withstand an all-out attack by the creatures were they to attack_ en masse _. But as that has not yet happened, the peasants and villagers had best count themselves as lucky to have Captain Rumford. And for their sake, I hope that the girl, Leah, is correct about what she has been telling me._

_It is she who told me to begin writing things down. A journal. Given there is little I feel like wasting on the foolish sorts around here when it would accomplish nothing, perhaps she has a point. My temper is burning as hot as my blood as I seek this fallen star. If writing thoughts down aids me in honing my focus, then I shall use this as another tool._

_The star._

_No one can tell me anything of any use. They are as clueless as I--more really. While they see it as an omen of the end and the cause of this "bad luck" with the undead, I at least seem to sense something else. Even now I cannot explain this thing...but it has ignited my curiosity. Even in this darkness, the star's blue light is a smudge on the horizon as if it were some false sunrise. It mocks me at times I think. But I still journey toward that light in the dark._

_Something is in the air and it is not the stench of the abominations around me nor those I left in my wake. It is like...something I should know, should be able to name. Power perhaps. But not demonic. There is the acrid stench of sulfur in the air and molten rock. Not even the decay smell can blot it out entirely._

_Regardless, I know for certain that the star struck the Old Tristram Cathedral. I even happened to see part of the crater it made within the top-most chambers of the ruin's body. The stone burned with a strange blue fire that clung to it like moss to a stone. It even reduced the head of the crude spear I used to test it to a bit of slag without clinging to the metal. This fire is not fire at all, of that I am certain._

_Deckard Cain--a man I've heard tale of before and apparently Leah's uncle--sent me after a key to summon the elusive Skeleton King. I remember my parents speaking of King Leoric at one time but I was too young to remember much. The tale Deckard gave was tragic but nothing that I have not experienced myself. The only real difference is that I will not permit any demon to control or to twist my mind. That and I still live for the moment._

_Tonight I will be returning to the Cathedral. This crown-key better work. I am growing impatient to reach the star as more and more dead rise to taint this land with each hour. And it seems that every passing day, the abominations become more powerful and far more twisted and grotesque than ever._


	3. The Cathedral

_I would never have thought a mere cathedral would ever be so damned large. Regardless of what deity a people or king worship, surely none would require a holy place of such magnitude. And the design... They may call this a cathedral but in truth it is a labyrinth. How the devout could find their way about this place is beyond me. If it were not for the spider I conjured to aid me on my endeavor, I fear I would be quite lost in this mess._

_Using the passage Deckard showed me when we escaped the first time, I was able to slip past the initial hole above. The crown worked to unlock the great door near the passage. This once-holy place is as far from hallow as the High Heavens are from the Burning Hells. In this damn maze, I've lost true sense of time. I have the feeling that it took me over a day to work my way through the scores of abominations on the first level to reach the second._

_It's quiet here. The stench of death is less and I even caught a breath of fresher air from a shattered window--although I can see naught through it. My position is secluded and hidden enough I feel able to rest for a few hours. If the second floor is anything like the first, I know I shall need a little sleep before continuing. That and the spider will make certain I wake should anything approach..._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The groans and shuffling sounds were clearer as she crept forward. Eyes darting back and forth across the hallway she was moving along, her bow rested ready, loosely drawn with arrow waiting. A faint shimmer of white danced about the barbed head and caused the metal to seem almost black against the wooden shaft. Not a sound rose from the leather boots as each foot was cautiously placed on stones not broken or displaced by whatever abominations had passed before her.

            Breathing slow and soft, her ears were honed on the sounds of her prey as she drew closer. More shuffling, another groan. Then the sound of metal rattling against bone made her pause and turn to slide to one side of the statue depicting some elderly man with a book in one hand and a staff in the other. Leaning forward, she slowly peered around the corner on the other side of the statue.

            Sure enough, a warrior of some sort more skeleton than corpse stood in her way. The armor was broken and in disarray. The iron-bound shield was wood and hung off a dangling arm. The other arm was dangling as well but the bony hand was wrapped tight about the hilt of a pitted and battle-broken sword. The creature's back was toward her for the moment as it shifted a little like a restless guard.

            Raising the bow, she tilted her head downward to sight along the arrow. Taking a slow, deep breath, she focused her rage on her target. The arrow's head darkened to pitch black as that pale white glow grew, flickering in hints of orange. The skeleton shifted again, head lolling and rolling slightly before it grunted. Only part of its throat and chest were still intact but it was enough to make noise. Killa did not want that type of noise.

            Exhaling, she loosed the arrow. The twang of her bow was quiet. The thunk as the arrow struck was muted. The clatter of the armor striking the stone in a heap was deafening. Bone flew and armor skittered as the arrow ignited the rotting flesh and spread like wildfire. The simple magic burned the creature from the inside out, felling it in one shot. And the only noise was one that would not draw more attention: a clumsy corpse crashing into the ground as it shuffled around.

            Relaxing as the brief burst of flame faded to leave charred flesh smoldering when the last of the hungering magic dispelled itself, the hunter moved forward once more. From the shadows of a broken column nearby, a dark arachnid took shape as it moved toward the heap to investigate. Killa already knew, it was truly dead. Moving a little more swiftly, she readied another arrow while drawing up beside her conjured companion.

            Just as she began to step around the heap, she noticed something different. It was a thrum in the air. Nostrils flaring on instinct, she froze to listen as her eyes darted from shadow to light over the passage. Nothing. The prevalent stench of death, blood, flame. Dust was still in the air from where columns had fallen and likely from where the star had smashed through the cathedral.

            Another moment passed and finally the hunter moved forward once more. Every step made that strange thrum stronger as it crept along her arms and legs, coiled up her spine like strange whiplashes of flame. It was magic. Now that she was closer there was no way she could mistake it. This magic held the dark taint of demons and corruption that was all too familiar to her. It made her hazel eyes flash with cold hatred.

            Sinking into a lower crouch, she moved forward more swiftly. Although she could not smell the flames lesser demons often seemed to bring with them, she could tell the magic was powerful. It meant a kill! Another cursed beast to destroy and extract her vengeance from! No more time to dally and sneak around if a demon was after the star. Even darting forward, Killa was not prepared for the sight that her eyes beheld when she reached the top of the staircase.

            There was the demonic circle on the floor. Its lines pulsed with a bloody-orange light against the blackness tainting the stone. Around it was a circle of figures in pus-yellow garb. Counting them in a glance, she found there were seven. That same black-tainted light was flowing from their raised hands into the circle they stood around. But it was no demon they were worshiping. It was a man.

            He was standing--bound by black magic. And from the manner which his body was contorted, the bonds were the only things holding him up. The corruption was burning around his body and eating into his flesh like a parasitic growth. His mouth was open and his head back so Killa could see the raw agony on his face. But the hunter heard no screams. In fact, the only thing she could hear was the low ambient of voices chanting their magic.

            In four seconds she took the entire sight into account. In two seconds, she decided to act. In the last second that it took her to bring her bow up--one of the yellow figures spotted her. Even as he broke the circle to turn and cast a spell in her direction, her arrow found his chest. The cultist spun in place from the force behind the shot. With his dying breath, he released a shout to the rest.

            Even as hooded heads rose in response to the alarm, Killa was moving. Two arrows were notched and loosed as the cultist closest to the foot of the stairs spun toward her. Her first arrow took him in the throat as the second sailed past their captive's thrashing body to strike the cultist furthest from the stairs. The power behind the arrow spun him around as well and two more threads of magic were cut. Sound was suddenly back.

            "Your magic is weakening!"(1) the tortured soul screamed in pain and anger.

            Paying the man no mind, a fourth arrow was drawn and set. Now the other cultists were divided. One attempted to cast a curse on her as the other two threw more effort into the spell they were working on their victim. Killa dove to the side as the spell flew toward her position, making the finest hairs on the back of her neck rise and stiffen. From the shadows near the base of the stairs, the spider attacked the cultist that dared attack the hunter.

            Rising to one knee, bow jerking into place before her, she aimed and loosed the arrow at another cultist. The man dropped like a stone as the shaft punched straight through him. It broke the focus of the last man who bolted toward the foot of the stairs leading to the hunter. He never saw the arrow that had just killed his companion rebound off of thin air and drive itself through his spine into his heart like a hungry beast.

            Hisses and screams came from the last two combatants as they thrashed across the floor. Killa watched them for a moment. Her spider had snared the cultist with four of its powerful legs. The back two were busy wrapping webbing around the tangled robes to further bind the man while two of the front legs were grappling with the man's free arm. Not that escape would be possible given the spider's fangs were buried deep in his back below the base of his neck.

            While the spider she had conjured did have its own venom, given it was her creature, she had purposely dictated that venom would only be used in merciful situations. This was not one. It would take a couple of minutes for the arachnid to drink the man dry, but he would be dead before the creature released him. Satisfied the cultists were dispatched, Killa rose and moved down the stairs toward the dissipating circle and the figure that had collapsed there.

            Magic was still clinging to his body and pulsing like some nightmarish heart. The man's entire body was heaving with ragged breaths as if he had been deprived of air for too long. Perhaps he had. The spell could have been silencing him in some way. Just as her boots came to the floor, he pushed himself up to hands and knees. It made her pause. That and the strange way his back first bowed and his entire body shuddered violently. Her bow rose, arrow almost appearing from thin air as she prepared for another confrontation.

            "I am free!" (2) the cry came as he almost flew to his feet as if breaking away from something.

            Light exploded outward, making Killa step back and up onto the stairs again. Her head turned aside but her eyes remained on the man though narrowed to adjust for the light. The cursed magic burned away like night before the sun. His clothing was torn and dirty, revealing minor wounds beneath the holes. Whoever he was, or whatever he had been doing, they had not taken him without a bit of a fight. And he was as human as eyes could detect.

            "Who are you?" he asked with a voice hoarse from his torment.

            "I might ask you the same," she replied.

            "You will know soon enough. Help me find my gear. I will reward you well,"(3) he said with a tone that was arrogant regardless of the roughness.

            Now the hunter's eyes narrowed for a very different reason. There was no greed in the sharp gaze that moved over the man from head to toe. Without the black magic upon him, she could take his full figure into account. The torn clothes were closer to rags in appearance without the brightness of light on him. In fact, the tunic exposed a very muscled chest and powerful arms. It was torn over what remained of his leggings which stretched across equally powerful thighs. Thankfully, a fall of that ragged tunic kept him decent and a mystery.

            Killa made note of the way he stood, even holding his side and wavering in place as he was. Solid builds like his typically came with heavy work. The arrogance of the command he gave dispelled thoughts that he was of common stock used to heavy work. His stance was steady and knees bent just a little for swift action. The broad shoulders were squared and ready. Of course he was a little stooped due to his condition but the way his head was angled forward was typical of one used to heavy helms with narrow visors.

            "I'm not here for gold or to save you, warrior," Killa said. "I'd suggest you make your way to New Tristram and put yourself to defense instead of adventuring."

            "Do I look like a farmer to you? And just what brings you here if not for the loot left in these once-sacred halls?"

            She snorted before straightening and stepping back to the floor to move forward and past the brain-addled man. Not that she lowered her guard, "I must kill the Skeleton King."(4)

            "Then our aims align,"(5) he said as some of the tension visibly bled out of his body.

            "Align or not, you're only slowing me down. And you're injured. I've cleared the first floor and the road back to town. If you go now, you can probably make it without too much trouble."

            Even in pain and weak, the warrior could move fast. His hand fell heavily to Killa's shoulder. Unfortunately, she was still alert. Before he could speak or even pull her back, she had the tip of a dagger pressed to the soft spot of his throat where it met the hollow beneath his jaw. He froze and she held still with eyes blazing in anger.

            "Do not mistake my act as one of friendship, warrior. I killed them because they were in my way. You are free as the result. Now get away from me."

            Anger flared in his eyes too--which she only then noticed were an intense shade of green like a good emerald or a rain-drenched forest. It only made the shadows of anger black against that green. The hunter's own eyes flared with blue against gray shards of stone, jagged and cold. Lightning was a sudden flash of white through Killa's eyes and gold made forest into emerald in the warrior's own glare. In that moment, something...changed.

            "I am Kormac, warrior of the Templar Order. If it is the Skeleton King you seek, then you will have to fight your way past Jondar. There is no reason we should hunt alone,"(5) he said in a far calmer and more even tone.

            Killa regarded him as her own temper evened out. The point of her dagger was still pressing into his skin, drawing a single bead of blood where it had broken through. But the tension had eased slightly from her arm as the readiness to make good her threat faded. If there was an obstacle in her way that this man was after, then it would only accelerate her own goals. And if he was a templar, it would explain the light and his apparent ability to heal himself--albeit minimally.

            "I often prefer to be alone. But I will make an exception for you..."(6)

            She lowered her arm and withdrew the blade. In return, he removed his hand from her shoulder. That was the change, somehow there was an unspoken understanding between them. Both had their goals. It just happened those goals intersected.

            "Good,"(7) he said as his arm moved back to cradle his injured ribs. "Now, let's find my gear."

            Besides, once this task was completed, she could bid him farewell and continue her own path. Provided he survived hunting with her that was. If not, then he would not. Focusing herself onto her task rather than letting herself be distracted by gentle concerns, she led him up the far stairs toward the blue light that indicated the path of the star.

            "Who is this Jondar?"

            "He was a member of the templar order who has forsaken his vows and joined the demonic coven that infests this fallen cathedral,"(*) Kormac said.

            "What could have made him do that?" she asked.

            The fierce glare she received was met in full with her own. "It does not matter. This betrayal will not stand."

            Shrugging, she let the matter lie as they came around a corner and directly upon the crater she sought. A single glance told her all she needed to know: the star was below, still far from reach and it was too dangerous to just jump in after it.

            "The cultists dragged me past this glowing pit. What made it?"(8) the templar asked.

            "I will know soon."(9)

            Around a corner, Killa caught sight of motion. Pausing, she tilted her head to peek around the column without announcing her own presence. The templar was not so cautious and walked past her into the open. Of course, it immediately drew the notice of the cultists milling in the hall amongst several mobile skeletons.

            "Down this way! There are my weapons!"(10)

            "He is free! Do not let him re-arm!"(11) shouted the cultist to spot him first.

            Growling under her breath, the hunter stepped forward as well and sent her arrow flying past the running templar to strike the cultist who sounded the alarm. Even unarmed however, the man had some skill as he managed to tear the skeletons apart so they did not rise again. She dispatched the remaining cultists. And it was also up to her to break the lock upon the faintly glowing chest.

            Keeping an eye out for additional trouble, she gave the templar time to get his armor on and heft a sturdy wooden shield before retrieving the polearm that was beside the chest. At least it seemed to be far easier moving through the cathedral after that. He was loud, abrasive, entirely arrogant, but a good piece of bait for her prey.

            Then they came upon something entirely new to the hunter. A staircase that was blocked by row after row of spiked bars preventing any and all passage. Studying the obstacle, she glanced over the side of the rail to gage the drop. The templar pushed past her.

            "Black magic bars our way... But the will of a templar is stronger!"(12) he cried loudly.

            Again she found herself wondering just how the damn man had lived as long as he had. Then something else drew her attention. The polearm was glowing with a beautiful gold light. He thrust it forward, bypassing the spikes to strike the heart of the first bar. Light flashed from his weapon's blow and the barricade collapsed upon itself. Moving forward, he struck again and again until the remaining bars fell and left their path clear.

            She sensed the dark presence below them before she saw it. And again the templar was rushing ahead as she moved down the stairs, careful not to step on any of the broken spikes or trip over larger pieces.

            "You were a templar, Jondar!" Kormac cried. It almost sounded...betrayed. "How could you succumb to this coven?"(13)

            "The Coven is my brotherhood now, Kormac! The powers we serve will soon rule this world!"(14)

            Reaching the foot of the stairs, the hunter watched as the two foes clashed. Every time the dark-armored Jondar summoned more undead to do his bidding, she quickly dispatched them. It gave the templar time to do what he had come to do. And in the end, Jondar fell at Kormac's feet. Gasping as blood flowed from the multitude of wounds inflicted, he dragged himself a little closer to the templar's feet.

            "Please forgive me," he gasped. "My vision was clouded by the Coven's evil magic."(15)

            "Betrayal can never be forgiven,"(16) Kormac spat, glaring at the dying man before driving his spear downward and impaling his heart. The body sagged as Jondar's final breath escaped him. Killashandra watched dispassionately before moving on toward the next set of stairs. She still had her prey to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotes with numbers (1-16) are actual lines actually spoken by the characters as you progress through the game. In future chapters, these lines and quotes will also be followed by numbers--though I'll start with (1) for each new chapter. So far, as this is just the start, I'm sticking as close to the gameplay as possible. After the completion of Act 1, I'll be working more of my own imaginings into the script. This is merely a starting point after all.
> 
> (*) denotes a line said in the game, only I have had to alter it a little to fit into the dialogue of the fic.


	4. The Breaks

_I don't quite know how but it seems I have picked up a stray. Would that it were a simple matter of throwing some stones and shouting to drive him away. Sadly, stones would do very little against metal armor aside from give me a blasted headache from the racket. The man whose life I happened to save in Old Tristram's Cathedral is a templar. Kormac is his name. I'm constantly calling him Trouble in my head._

_Well, okay, I call him a lot of things in my head that I don't say aloud. Although some I do. Yelling at him has not driven the arrogant lout away. Once the Skeleton King was slain he should have went on his damned way. Instead he followed me to the star--which turned out to be a man of some sort. I agree with Deckard that he is not human. But aside from the obvious, there is a presence about him that is somewhat familiar._

_Still, it hardly altered my quest. No, what set me back is a broken arm. My bow arm in fact. It's all his fault too. That damned templar. Why is he insisting on dogging me? He killed the traitor to his Order before we destroyed the Skeleton King. Why in the hells is he still hanging around? At least I have the excuse of a broken bone. He has but a few scratches since he finished healing his broken ribs two days ago._

_Because of his clumsy thoughtlessness, I can do little beyond sit and endure Leah's presence, Deckard's mumbling stories as he hunts for anything to aid me in healing faster, and that cursed templar. The stranger--the man that fell to ground--is... Well, whatever he is, he lost his memory so there is little for him to bother me with. And if it were not for this damned injury, I'd be on my way to finding the pieces of his sword._

_Yet another thing that Deckard is so certain of. If the stranger's sword--one of the few things he can remember as well as its breaking--can restore his memory, then it must be collected. Not to mention we have already seen what this stranger's arrival has wrought. If the sword has any hint of power as well, it is dangerous. Danger draws demons and those who serve them. My hunt will not wait, and neither do I._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Pain shot up her arm to strike her shoulder. Teeth sinking into her lower lip, Killa froze and ceased to breathe so she would not make a sound. After a moment, the pain faded to leave a throbbing protest in its place. She released her breath in a rushed sigh and relaxed very carefully. Looking down, she fixed a glare of irritation at the tightly-bound arm held at her side by several torn rags. The sling was utterly crude but it was serviceable.

            Once again, she used her free hand to gently cup her bent elbow and push upward. Little by little she raised the splinted arm as she forced herself to keep breathing regularly. Again the pain flared. This time she took further caution not to use the bad arm at all. Leaning to the left, she eased her elbow down onto the mantle and relaxed as nothing further raised protest. It gave her full use of her free hand at last.

            Getting dressed with a broken arm was no easy feat. Killa was doubly pressed because if she made any noise or hint that she was up and getting ready to leave, Leah would stop her. While sneaking off to go fight with a broken arm was childish, stupid, and utterly suicidal, it was driving the hunter insane to be stuck inside the fortifications while her prey was just outside the shoddy walls.

            There had been another attack of the undead the night before. Five more souls were dead. But the creatures had been destroyed and burned to ensure they stayed that way. And all the while Killa had been made to stay in her room in the inn under the guard of the simple village folk that barred her way every time she started for the door.

            A few tugs on her shirt removed the uncomfortable folds of cloth beneath the plain leather armor she had been struggling to pull on for at least thirty minutes. Her leggings, socks, boots and belt were far easier. They also took half the time to get on. She was in the process of gingerly guiding her arm off the mantle and lowering it back to her side when a knock came on the door.

            Giving the thing an irritated glance, she sighed and turned to move to where her pack was at. One hand was all she needed to finish putting her things back into it. And even though the knock meant she could not make good on a clean escape, they also could not stop her very easily given she was fully dressed.

            "Go away," she called out, knowing it would be ignored.

            Sure enough, the door opened a moment after she had spoken. But it was not Leah who peeked around the corner. A dark head without hair to be seen upon it was first. That was clue enough for her to figure out who had come to visit her this time.

            "I'm...sorry. I know you prefer to remain in solitude. I...I'm not sure why I came, but I...I felt that I should," the stranger said.

            Her temper flared then faded as she snorted and turned her attention back to her packing. "It's all right. You may enter, just close the door behind you."

            Killa heard the crude hinges groan slightly before the latch clicked. The last of her things was neatly tucked into place, making the pack pretty solid. But she had to readjust it because her journal had yet to be shoved in with the rest.

            "Why are you packing? And how...did you do it with your arm?"

            "I should think that the answer was rather obvious. And a broken arm doesn't make me helpless. It's just a nuisance that slows me down," she said without looking up.

            "Leah said it will take weeks for the bones to set properly enough for you to use it again," the man said almost more to himself than to Killa.

            "Yes. She and her uncle both. But I've wasted enough time sitting down or in bed. There are demons to kill, dead creatures to put back to rest, and pieces of a sword to retrieve."

            Straightening, the hunter turned to scan the room before stepping over to the bed to pick the book up. When she turned back to the table where the pack rested however, the stranger was standing in her way with a very worried expression.

            "Surely you're not going out to try and fight like that? You'll die."

            Killa just studied him. "I have fought one-handed before. I was actually going to stop at the smith's on my way to see if he can repair my crossbow. That only requires one hand."

            "But..." the stranger began then hesitated. His eyes were on the book in her hand. For just a moment, she saw something change in his eyes. It made their color change. However, it was a color she had no name for and no other color to hope to compare it to.

            "Have you remembered something?" she asked.

            Blinking, the stranger came back to the moment and looked back up toward the hunter's face. Loss showed clearly before he shrank back a little and shook his head.

            "No, no I...I don't think so..."

            Nodding, she moved around him as he drew out of her way. It was tricky getting the book into the pack but she managed. Buckling the straps tightly, she tested the weight and looked at the bound arm thoughtfully. There was no way she could pull the strap over that arm. So, she shifted to sling it over her right shoulder instead.

            "Huntress, please, surely you realize this decision is suicide?" he tried again.

            Looking back to him, she tilted her head rather than shrug. Crossing the two steps to the bed, she picked up the crossbow she had been studying before she made her decision. It still fit perfectly in her grasp and the weight resumed being familiar after a few moments of adjusting to the balance. She lowered it to hook it in place on her belt.

            "I will not, and cannot sit by idle like the rest of these folk. They cannot fight these things. And I will never stand by and let another family be butchered by demons, or any of their ilk, so long as I still draw breath."

            When she turned around, she froze. The stranger was typically a little hunched and stooped as if in pain or afraid. He was standing tall now. That strange something was again in his eyes as if he were seeing something other than Killa before him. It was a brief moment but it struck her as...very important. Something about this stranger was extremely important. The thought tickled at the very edges of her mind and evaded her attempts at pinning it down.

            "You will fight for them, even if it means your death?" he asked in a voice that was as strange as the expression on his face.

            "Yes," she answered with the oddest sensation that her response was somehow a great weight toward...that damned something that she could not define. "If those who can fight will not, then what hope is there for those who would fight but lack the means?"

            Silence fell. That was the weight she sensed. Then, the stranger stepped forward almost slowly as his eyes remained locked on her own. Killa knew she should have felt her guard rise and alarm make her move, but she held still. Power. It was the same sort of power she had felt the closer she came to Tristram, the same that was beneath the corruption smothering the cathedral, the same that even now held her more mesmerized than captive.

            "Hope..."

            His voice was stronger, but still strange. Then a hand fell to her splint-bound arm. Agony lanced upward so suddenly it made her gasp and make a pained sound as her eyes watered. Then heat. Something rich and full. It was sunlight and warmth, comfort and strength. Just as she almost made the connection and caught that thought that still evaded her--it was gone as tears spilled down her cheeks.

            "I--I'm sorry!" the stranger stammered.

            Even as her free hand rose to scrub the liquid out of her eyes so her vision was clear, she saw the brownish blob of his garments as he fled. By the time she could see again, the door was standing open. Only it was not empty. The templar stood there, frowning in utter confusion as he looked down the hall. Likely he was watching the stranger flee.

            Killa briskly wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks and dried her hand against the leather vest she wore as her mood returned to its darker presence. Turning away, she picked up the final item from the table. It was the armored guard she typically wore on her left arm that could serve as minimal shield and protect it from most blows. The crumpled and broken metal attested to the power behind the blow that had also broken her arm.

            "Now what was that about? And what are you doing, hunter?" Kormac asked as he entered without her permission.

            "That is a question to ask him, not me. And by all means, do enter," she said in a flat tone.

            "It looks to me like you're going to get yourself killed. Where's your armor?"

            Glaring over her shoulder at the templar, Killa lifted the arm-guard to where he could see it. His dark frown faded as he had the decency to appear sheepish about it.

            "I'm on my way to the blacksmith to see if he can do anything with this. And, if not, I'm going to see if he can craft me something better. Perhaps armor that has less chance of being ruined by an egotistical, lumbering ox too intent on trying to prove himself to something to realize he is getting in the way of another's attacks. Oh, and perhaps a new weapon that I can fire one-handed and will magically alter the course of each arrow so it can fly around an arrogant asshole intent on ignoring the fact that friendly fire can destroy him as easily as it can his enemies."

            Kormac actually backed up when faced by the hunter. In fact, Killa was stalking toward him through the last of her rant with eyes blazing and head down in a position even he understood was that of a predator ready to attack. Unfortunately, the rooms in the inn were only so large. So his back hit the wall before he could get a safe enough distance away. Not that he really had anything to fear. Killa was already on her way out of the door.

            Standing there stupidly, it took a total of three heartbeats for the gob-smacked expression to vanish and anger to replace it. Jaw clenching, Kormac turned and quickly followed the hunter. Even those few seconds were more than she needed though. She was nowhere in sight when he reached the common room and he growled to himself. Turning around, he went back to his own room for his armor and pack. After all, he knew precisely where she was going.


	5. Debt Owed

            It probably would have been a very nice day had it not been for the prevalent atmosphere of death, fear, and despair. At was what made the land so dark. Still, gloomy or not, the hunter had timed her escape practically perfect. Even with death all around them, the commoners were sticking to their time-honored tradition of eating midday meal. There were only a few villagers visible as Killashandra left the inn and they were the merchants.

            As her apparent balance of bad fortune to good would have it, she did not see Haedrig at his forge. Even spending just a few days in the village had shown her that the man was always at his trade to try and improve or repair the weapons used in the defense of the village as well as making armor for the defenders. Of course he could not always be visible working out front either.

            Entering the smithy, she paused to listen. The roar of the forge and the great bellows that were operated by crude machinery prevented her from discerning much. Knocking would also be useless. Her call was loud but when there was no answer, she began to look around to see if Haedrig was in the very back where he kept a meager stockpile. Nothing.

            Just as she turned to leave with the intent to ask one of the present villagers where she could find him, she crashed into a solid and noisy object. Said object also staggered a little but suffered less. Killa's arm jolted in agony, reminding her to stop hitting it. Rather than cradle it, her free hand jerked the crossbow from her hip up to aim. It was fortunate that Kormac had at least learned how to give her space.

            "Would you stop that?!" Killa shouted at him.

            The templar glared even as she pulled her arm back to aim the weapon to the ceiling instead of his head. "Don't blame me for everything!" he fired back.

            Growling to herself (even if she could barely hear it), she lowered the crossbow to glance at it. There was not enough light in the forge though for her to check the string. Heading to the door, she twisted her body to slide past the armored hulk still making himself a nuisance. Once in better light she examined the weapon and carefully returned it to her hip. It would not have done any harm to the templar even if she had fired given the loading mechanism was still jammed.

            "Hunter, wait."

            Pausing, she shot a glare over her good shoulder at him. Kormac's own glare mirrored hers as he drew up to stand beside her.

            "I've wasted enough time as it is, so say whatever you've to say and be done with it," she snapped.

            Kormac took a deep breath and released it. Since both of them had tempers burning high, he reigned his in...although it took effort.

            "Look, hunter," he started. Halting, he found himself grunting and shaking his head. "Killashandra, I'm sorry about your arm, and your armor, and for getting in your way just now. It was my fault. I...I haven't ever fought with someone." Realizing what that sounded like, he stuttered, "A-at least, not someone using a bow. I mean, attacking from a distance. I didn't mean to...your arm. I shouldn't have taunted that creature."

            Killa stood still and just studied the man before her. The longer she listened, the more she felt her own temper cool down to a bubbling simmer. And the longer she studied Kormac, the more she realized something else about his behavior--and her own. Primarily, how childish she had been acting about the entire affair.

            "Thank you." Sighing, she shook her head. "But it is not just you who need apologize. I lost my temper when I should have known better than to aim it toward you. I am more angry at myself than I am at you."

            Now it was his turn to let his temper bleed away as he stared at the woman, who continued.

            "I have worked hard to get where I am. I am very proud of my abilities and my skills. That pride was hurt more than my arm. Even with you charging around and distracting me from my targets, I should have been able to adapt. Instead, I stood there rather than move as I should have to get another line of sight. This is as much my fault as it is yours."

            Looking at Kormac again, she squared her shoulders as much as possible without jolting her arm. "I will accept your apology if you accept mine." Then she offered him her free hand.

            Reaching out, he took it for a firm shake. "Agreed."

            Nodding, she let her arm fall back to her side and moved forward again. It was not surprising when he walked along beside her. Despite the swallowing of her pride, Killa felt like bristling at his proximity. Before she could say anything else, he was speaking again.

            "There's one other matter I want to speak of since we're not snapping at one another. You saved my life. And I know, you did not set out to do so. Intended or not, I owe you a debt for that. And I intend to repay you it."

            Dread settled coolly in Killa's stomach as she paused to look at the templar again. He immediately faced her.

            "Our goals are still the same. To bring an end to evil and destroy demons. And even if my first attempt did injure you, by all that is holy, I swear that it shall not happen again! Since my actions led to your injury, let me serve as your arm's replacement. Let me fight with you and repay my debt!"

            "I really don't think this is going to work..." she began.

            "By my honor, I swear this! I must repay this debt," he pushed with flare that only made his voice rise.

            Killa only covered her face with her free hand and groaned.


	6. Negotiations

            "By my honor, I swear this! I must repay this debt," he persisted.

            Killa only covered her face with her free hand and groaned. In truth, she was hardly surprised. The templar had already proven to be a steadfast and stubborn character even in their brief interlude together. Grasping frantically for any possible excuse or reason to try and throw at him in order to dispel his perceived debt, an idea suddenly struck her.

            "Just how are you faring anyhow, templar? Have you fully recovered from the black magic they were working upon you?"

            That made Kormac pause. Apparently the sudden shift of conversation threw him for a loop. Blinking a couple of times, he just stared at her. Then one hand rose to comb back through his hair.

            "Well, yes. I still feel a little...out of sorts, but... Nothing I can't handle!"

            Regarding him intently, the hunter merely tilted her head to one side. It made Kormac shift a little like a boy caught in the middle of doing something he was not supposed to and trying to pretend nothing was going on. He did not meet her eyes. It was almost cute.

            "Are you certain of that?" she asked gently.

            "As certain as you are that you can fight with one broken arm," he responded almost smoothly.

            Even though logic was telling her to keep pushing, she had to admit he was sharp with his thoughts. For just a moment, she did wish that it were possible to have him tag along. But if she should soften, she would never be rid of him and it would be one more dead companion shadowing the path of her vengeance. Not that it was a bad thing since each death of someone she knew fueled her hatred of demons--but death was death and she fought to bring it to demons, not to humans.

            "My arm is my only injury. Their magic was attacking your entire body. And to fight through the Cathedral after that...I'm not so sure that you are going to be able to keep up with me, even if I wanted you to. Which I do not."

            For a moment, Killa found she did regret her words and the flash of pain that crossed the man's face. He covered it well though.

            "Fine. Then I'll make you a deal. If I should be slowing you down at any point, I will return to town, no further protestations."

            Killa frowned at that proposal. Still, she also realized that she was seriously considering it. "That does sound fair."

            "And if I am not slowing you down, I will remain with you to serve as your arm until I should happen to become less than worthy!" he finished.

            Standing there in the middle of the road with him, for a moment a tiny voice in the back of her mind was saying they were acting ridiculous. Ignoring it, her hazel eyes instead moved away from his face to look the rest of him over speculatively.

            Kormac stood on an even height with her which meant he was at least six feet tall, give or take an inch. His body was thick with muscle gained from fighting under the weight of heavy plate with broad shoulders and sturdy hips. Not that it made him that unpleasing to look at. Even though his current armor was lighter than some she had seen, he had a touch of leanness to him that aided in his agility. With his short-cut chocolate brown hair and those piercing green eyes, he was an attractive man when he did not scowl.

            Realizing her trail of thought had strayed extremely far from the initial goal of sizing him up, Killa blinked and gave her head a shake. Instead she thought back to how he fought--and yes she had watched him. After all, they had been working together for a couple of days before the accident. He was not that poor a fighter even if his methods seemed and had proven clumsy. That could be rectified.

            When her gaze returned to his, she saw the same measuring look in his eyes. Perhaps something could be worked out. It was the familiarity of the look in those green eyes within the Cathedral that had first made her decide to allow their hunts to merge. For a few days, she had actually forgotten what had made her change her mind.

            "I will accept that deal, provisionally."

            "Provisionally?" he asked. Puzzled, he tilted his head forward rather than to the side. "What provision would you have?"

            The hunter smiled and brought her free hand up to tap the metal plates stamped into the leather tunic visible between each rectangular section.

            "That if you do not uphold your end of the deal and leave me alone when you see you're slowing me down, I get to make you go away."

            Kormac automatically looked down to her hand. When his eyes rose, they went to the crossbow at her hip before meeting her gaze. Satisfied that he understood exactly what she meant, Killa nodded and lowered her hand to offer it to him in order to seal the deal. It took him a few moments before he took her hand in his.

            "Agreed."

            "Very well. Now, let's find Haedrig. I'll need this fixed before we do anything else."

            "You mean it's broken?" Kormac asked incredulously.

            "Of course. Why else would you still have a nose instead of a bolt where it had been?" she asked drolly.

            All the templar did was shake his head and follow her as she moved on. One of the snootier merchants had been watching them openly without any attempts to pretend otherwise. It was the only reason she chose to interact with him given his haughty attitude.

            "Excuse me, did you happen to see where Haedrig might have gone to for his meal?"

            The upturned nose was a natural feature from his birth so she did not hold it against the merchant when it turned up more from the wrinkling he gave it.

            "That crude lummox did not take his typical meal break." Despite the distaste for the blacksmith's profession, the merchant's expression grew pitying. "He's gone to his wife. Apparently something happened while she was tending the injured in that pit in the ground. Just follow the road and you may manage to catch up with him."

            Nodding, Killa turned to go in the direction indicated.

            "Thank you," Kormac said to the merchant as he turned to catch up.

            Sure enough, they came around the bend in the road to see the sooty and filth-stained figure of the blacksmith making his way with an oddly harried shuffle toward the cellar where the worst of the victims from undead attacks had been moved for safety.

            "Haedrig!" Killa called out.

            The man paused and turned. Even beneath the thick beard and fire-darkened features, he looked like a man haunted by the gallows.

            "I've some work to ask of you, if you have the time."

            "Not now. It's my wife... She's locked in the cellar, like all those who've been bitten. I'm to put them all down. But how can I kill my own wife?"(1)

            Even as he spoke, Haedrig's countenance turned from grimly haunted to painful despair. Killa knew that look all too well. She made her voice gentle but with a slight edge of certainty.

            "Sometimes death is the only mercy we have left."(2)

            When his head fell forward to hide the glistening of tears in his eyes, she made a decision that was truly coming almost too easily in recent times. "I will help you."(3)

            Gratitude made bitter by pain was in his eyes when he looked at her again. There was no smile but she expected none. At least his voice was steady even if filled with relief that he might have a way to ease his burden as well as do what he knew was necessary.

            "Thank you. Follow me,"(4) he said as he turned to continue on.

            Instead of following immediately, Killa turned her head to look at Kormac. The templar's features were unreadable but his eyes held the same look she had seen in her own reflection many times.

            "We must be ready to finish this work if he cannot."(5)

            All she did was nod in agreement with his words. They did not need to be spoken but it was a relief in itself that they shared such a thought. Both followed the figure of the blacksmith as he headed for the cellar beneath one of the empty houses in the village. It had been built of stone and wood rather than more fragile materials which was why all those bitten had been moved there. It would be harder for them to break free if they turned.

            "Haedrig, before we proceed, I need you to take a look at this weapon. The firing mechanism has been jammed for a couple of weeks and it is the only weapon I can use one-handed."

            Surrendering the crossbow to the smith, the hunter took a moment to study the heavy cellar doors and the bar across them. Below would be all of the villagers and militia that had survived the attacks of the undead only to fall prey to the affects of the bites. One wife would not be the only one to die.

            "Ah, this is simple enough," Haedrig said, pulling her from her thoughts. "I can fix this now, but you'll need something better if you will be going outside the walls again."

            "Won't it serve?" she asked.

            "No. The weapon is old and although I can get it to work for you, it's only a temporary fix. The wood is badly cracked and the metal has a buildup of old rust between the fastenings and the supports. That's why it jammed. And it will do so again if used too long."

            Regret came and went. The crossbow was more of a sentimental item than anything. She could always keep it somewhere to hold onto the memories attached to it later--provided she lived beyond tomorrow. For now, it would serve. And when Haedrig offered it back, she took it and tested the weight once more. Even without examining it, she could tell it was ready to fire. It felt right.

            "Very well, then I'll use it this last time and follow your advice. Let's go."

            "Right."

            Haedrig turned to remove the heavy bar locking the cellar. Kormac drew closer to the hunter but maintained enough distance he evaded any repercussions from her. They followed the smith down into the dark gloom of the cellar. Since Killa already had her weapon in hand, it left Kormac to pull his shield from his back and take his spear in hand, ready to fight once more.


	7. Death Dealers

            As they descended into the cellar, the stench of sickness and death rose to embrace them. It made Haedrig choke and cough sharply. Neither Killashandra nor Kormac were overly affected by such smells. Minding her sling, she gave her crossbow one more inspection and removed the safety catch as the blacksmith made his way among the abandoned cots and stretchers that had been used to move the afflicted.

            "Why did they wait so long to decide to put these poor souls out of their misery?" she asked in a low tone that barely carried beyond the three of them.

            "T'was everyone's hope maybe Cain could find a way to help them recover. Since you rescued him though, he's found nothing," Haedrig said as he looked over the blood and gore-stained stretchers.

            Candles and torches rested along the walls either shoulder-height or on the hard-packed floor. The light did very little to reveal the cellar that well. Thankfully, Killa's eyes were well used to darkness. She could see that despite the cots and bedding, they were the only souls present save a few rats with black eyes shimmering gold in the light of the torches.

            There was another door set into a wall, revealing this house had likely been built by one of the richer citizens at some time or other. Haedrig went to this door and tried to open it. The key refused to turn in the lock.

            "That's odd," he said.

            Leaving the key in the lock, he turned his attention to lifting the bar away. The wood clanked almost sharply when it struck the floor then the wall. He leaned down to try the key again, jiggling it in the lock. Further attempts also led to naught.

            "These have to be the right keys, there are no others made."

            Killa was studying the lock and door intently. Despite the cellar being large, the craftsmanship of the door was rather poor to her keen eye. Considering the simple structure and old, dry wood, she glanced to the metal lock.

            "Templar, how versatile are you?" she asked.

            "What?"

            "Can you charge that door the way you charged the beast a few days ago or is there not enough room?"

            Understanding lit those green eyes as Kormac looked around. Moving to the wall opposite the door, he studied it then nodded. "I can break it easily from this distance."

            Haedrig had straightened when they began to speak. Catching on as well, he stepped aside. Kormac held out the shield and spear for the smith to take. Wisely, Killa moved around to the other side and gave the templar plenty of room as she lifted her crossbow and readied it for use. If the villagers had turned before their arrival, she would be able to buy the other two enough time to re-arm and fight.

            For a moment, it was silent. Kormac took a deep breath, sinking into a partial crouch and bowing his head as he focused on the door. Since he had no intention to break through it and charge head-first into someone (or something), he had to focus on his control. Knees bent, arms rose, he tensed. Then he sprang forward, letting his shoulder lead as he tucked his head down. Metal collided with wood and wood shattered.

            Whether it was intentional or not, Kormac dropped to a knee a few feet after crossing the threshold. It did check his momentum and cleared the way for the hunter to sight and aim. A very good thing. Two figures were in the dimly lit room not five feet from the templar. Neither were healthy humans. Surprised by the sudden explosion of the door, the undead villagers released hungry cries and started toward the fresh source of food.

            A crimson-black lit bolt took the first in the chest, sending it staggering backward and stunning it briefly. A second white-black lit bolt took the second in an eye and spun it around, capturing it mid-spin as ice crackled angrily into existence about the corpse's body to lock it in place. Haedrig was there in the next moment, tossing Kormac his shield and spear while wielding his blacksmithing hammer in his free hand. A second hammer was yanked from his belt the moment the templar's weapons were gone from that hand.

            Partially from her own training and partially because she wanted to ensure neither of the men accidentally hit her again, Killa raised the crossbow to fire a third shot upward. The arrow struck the heavy timber crossbeams of the cellar ceiling and burst into flame. It illuminated the rest of the cellar as bright as sunrise. Not all of the poor victims had turned but many had. Those were heading toward the three causing the racket.

            Haedrig almost faltered seeing--what she presumed had been someone he knew in life--a creature almost directly on top of him, lunging for his throat. He swung one hammer. A lifetime of honing his blacksmithing skills and needing precise strikes to turn out armor and weapons as well as tools came to his aid. The hammer connected with the corpse's skull and crushed it as if it were an eggshell.

            "My friends... I'm sorry!"(1)

            Even as she fired another bolt toward another advancing abomination, she saw Kormac from the corner of her eye locked in combat with three more. His shield was keeping them at bay and one was impaled on the spear he was thrusting with surprising accuracy around the bulwark.

            "Apologies will not lay them to rest, blacksmith! Swing your bloody hammer!"(2) the templar shouted as another undead creature rushed Haedrig.

            Twisting at the waist, Killa turned her next shot toward the corpses trying to get past the shield. Another red-laced black bolt flew from her crossbow, striking the middle corpse and punching into the further one. The first gave an unearthly shriek as it went up in flames while the second roared in agonizing hunger. Kormac thrust the two she had hit off his shield with a mighty shove to use the barrier as a secondary weapon and slam its metal-bound edge into the skull of the corpse on his spear.

            "Sorrow won't save your town, blacksmith,"(3) she called out before turning her attention back to the fight.

            For all the chaos, the battle was surprisingly short. Haedrig had taken to his task with reluctance but fought just as fiercely as Killa and Kormac once he had struck the second blow to lay former friends down. Even as they fought however, their presence only seemed to trigger the final decline of the remaining victims. It mattered little. Hammers crushed bone, spears impaled bodies, arrows set corpses alight in flame.

            It ended as abruptly as it had begun. Kormac yanked his spear from the still-burning corpse that had been the last to attack him. The hunter lowered her weapon but moved to kick a few of the more-whole bodies and ensure they would not rise again. And poor Haedrig...found that in the chaos of the fight, only one familiar face had not fallen before him. He found his wife shrinking back into a corner, terrified and in pain.

            Her body was already mostly wasted as if something had just eaten muscle off the bone without breaking the skin. Milk-glazed eyes stared at him as if they could see. A putrid slime of greenish yellow stained her lower face and chest where she had been throwing up what little bile her stomach held within it. Despite the twisted ruin of her failing body, Mira was still aware, still trapped inside her fleshy prison.

            Whatever agony the curse wrought, it was clearly not pleasant. Even terrified, her body was gripped by spasms and caught in the throes of some internal torment. It should have been punctuated by her screams save that somehow it would not even grant her that mercy of release. No, the sickness was consuming her whole, dragging everything that she was including her soul down with it. That was the true torment.

            "Mira, my love, forgive me..."(4) Haedrig gasped, breath heaving from his fighting and from sobs that were tearing their way up from his chest. Tears trailed pale tracts of clean flesh through the gore and filth on his face.

            "Ahhh!" Mira finally managed to release an agonized cry, more groan than scream. "Haedrig, help me!"(5)

            Killa maintained her distance to watch, weapon ready at her side but still lowered. She was not alone in her vigil. Kormac had moved to stand beside her as if shielding her broken arm as he, too, watched. Both were ready to intervene but this was the smith's task. They would simply ensure that the creature Mira was becoming would not leave the cellar as anything but charred flesh and bone.

            Placing one of his gore-drenched hammers aside, Haedrig reached out toward his wife. His gloved hand found her sunken cheek and cupped her face as he leaned in. Killa's crossbow rose slightly as Kormac's spear lowered into a ready position. Both could easily see the way this could go wrong and were ready.

            Mira's body suddenly thrashed, back bowing so sharply it cracked. Her flesh broke, mouth opening so wide in a scream that the diseased skin peeled back to give her a wolfishly wide maw that opened on either side to her very ears. From that open cavern spewed a foul liquid reeking of rotted meat, vomit, disease, and foulness. It splashed over Haedrig's hand and arm before the smith could throw himself away.

            Where the disgusting liquid struck the ground, the hard-packed earth broke apart. More undead abominations took form as if they had been birthed from a womb and dropped thoughtlessly to the ground. But these were no babies. Each one was the rotten corpse of a fully grown adult. And each one was scrambling toward the fresh source of food. Kormac charged forward even as Killa snapped her weapon up to fire.

            The templar's charge cleared the new abominations away from Haedrig as the hunter moved swiftly for a better line of sight where the smith would not be hit by any of her bolts. At least the man was recovering well. With the templar and the hunter dealing with the newly birthed corpses, he was left to deal with the rising thing that had once been his wife. His hammer swung--only to be knocked aside by an inhumanly strong arm as Mira lunged at him.

            "Kormac, spin right!" Killa shouted even as she took aim and fired in a smooth motion.

            Reacting immediately, the templar spun to his right. In the process, his shield arm arced around and passed over Haedrig's head just short of contact. The result was that Mira's lunge brought her rebounding off the shield and directly into Killa's arrow. The solid bolt struck a bony shoulder and drove Mira back against the earthen-stone wall. The barbed arrow head drove deep into the mortar and lodged there, pinning the smith's wife.

            Shock registered on all three fighters. For Killa and Kormac it was brief as their training pulled them back into the fight to finish off the remaining undead. Haedrig was slower to recover but now that the abomination of his wife was pinned, he could complete his task. Picking both hammers back up, he stepped toward her. That twisted grin of split flesh had revealed all of her teeth in a ghastly repose.

            Just as she began to open her mouth to spew forth more putrid slime, Haedrig brought his hammers down on her body, crushing her skull and driving it down into her rib-cage like a nail into a board. Mira's corpse collapsed upon itself, hanging mostly upright only due to the crossbow bolt embedded in the wall through her shoulder. The blacksmith stared at the corpse, arms limp at his sides. His hammers slid from numb and slimy hands to thump heavily on the floor. In a moment, he fell to his knees at his wife's feet and cried.

            Behind him, finished with the last of their enemies, the two fighters watched. Smoke was thick against the ceiling and charred flesh had overtaken the stench of all else save rot and death. But neither really cared about what they smelled. Killa was watching Haedrig cry before looking to the ruined corpse that had been his wife. There was the slightest hint of a glistening sparkle in her own eyes.

            Kormac remained respectfully silent as well, possessed by his own thoughts. And for a moment, he warred with himself about going to try and give some comfort to the blacksmith. It was a bump to his arm that broke him out of his thought to look to the hunter. She merely jerked her head to the side and quietly moved off to leave the fallen man a few moments to grieve. The templar followed her through the smashed door into the first part of the cellar.

            "Love is the surest road to a tragic end," he murmured quietly, even if it was unlikely Haedrig would have been able to hear him while consumed by pain. "That is why I have forsworn it."(6)

            It was probably a good thing he was looking back to check and make sure the smith had not heard him. Killa turned her head to give him a look that he missed. And as she studied the templar in that moment of incredulity, her eyes narrowed coldly. By the time Kormac looked back to her, her expression was neutral once more. Remaining silent, she just moved to the entrance of the cellar and the light filtering through the opening. Oblivious, Kormac followed.


	8. Another Stray

_Yet another soul with their family stripped away. But Haedrig is not as I am. Or was. He is in the prime of his life rather than a child without hope. He has already chosen his way of dealing with his grief by throwing himself into work. I have gained a skilled ally with the ability to not just repair any of my damaged equipment, he knows secrets to forging new armor and weapons that I had not dreamed of. Already he has nearly completed a new set of armor to replace my old one._

_The templar...confuses me. One moment it seems that we of the same mind. Then he says or does something that completely... I am not so certain just what to make of him. Regardless, I am upholding our deal. While my armor is being finished, I have begun to work with the templar to get us used to one another. We each have different fighting styles and skills. Even if it means that the trees near Tristram suffer a little, I will not enter the hunt again until I am certain we have a decent grasp on how we can work together._

_Although I still feel restless, Cain assured me that someone is on the trail of the sword pieces. The wizard--naming himself Chaende--came here as I did, drawn by the star. Since he was hale and healthy, he proceeded on the task I left waiting. Part of me chafes at that. But I am honestly relieved that this setback has not become a problem. In fact, something curious was discovered while I sat with Cain one day._

_My arm was almost fully healed. After the cellar purging, I permitted the templar to try his hand at healing it. He would not let the subject go and it was either agree or injure him permanently. When he did lay his hands on my arm, it was a sensation I had felt before. Warmth. Sunlight. Power. The full opposite of evil. But it was far weaker than the first time I had felt that same sensation. When the stranger touched my arm._

_Now I have my own suspicions about just who--or what--the stranger is. Just as Cain has kept his suspicions to himself, I find no cause or reason to voice my own. Although it was rather amusing to see the templar so puzzled as to why the bone was mostly healed when he tried to heal it. I was honest enough with him though. I have always been a fast healer, so saying such was no lie. But here as well as to myself I admit it was not the full truth either._

 

_The wizard retrieved one of the sword's pieces. He has suffered some serious injuries as well and has been left weak from whatever magics he used on his quest. Given my own returned health, I again took up the hunt with the templar following. At least this time I do not have the sense of dread I did at the first encounter. The wizard warned us of a strange encounter with a witch that claimed to be the leader of a coven._

_He said she seemed very interested in the sword piece and it was almost more than he could handle. Due to his injuries, he has elected to return the task to me. Although it pleased me, I do hope that he recovers swiftly. Nevertheless, he has crafted a few useful items for us on our way. The most useful item I've found are the small gem-like orbs he calls wizard-lights. They are simple things enchanted to drift through the air and create a soft glow to light our way. He taught us the words to snuff or intensify the light._

_He strikes me as an intelligent sort at least. These baubles are small and useful. The templar has not been able to break his either. I'm certain it was not his intent to try, but it did make me wonder anyhow._

 

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            "Maghda said something curious about the next piece. She believes it fell where only ancients may tread,"(1) Chaende said to those near the chair he rested in.

            Leah thought for a moment. "That makes me think of the Drowned Temple near the Festering Woods. I remember you telling me about it, Uncle."(2)

            "Exactly, Leah. The temple was home to the nephalem," Cain said as he bowed his head in thought before pointing to his niece. "Leah, your knowledge could be invaluable. You must go and help our friend retrieve the sword piece."(3)

            Leah rose from her own chair with a nod. The hunter regarded her intently, looking skeptical even though she had seen the girl use a bow before. Still, a guide was better than wasting time being lost.

            "The nephalem were ancient humans with fantastic power. Legend holds that they waged a terrible battle near the temple and that their ghosts still war with one another,"(4) she said as she headed for her room to pack her things.

            It left the rest of them to wait for a few minutes. Naturally, Killa turned her attention to her weapons and double-checking that everything was in order. Chaende was starting to doze off once more, his head gradually drifting down toward his chest. It was Cain and the templar that seemed almost awkward in the moment of idle. At least, until Kormac spoke up.

            "How are criminals treated in your land?"(5)

            Blinking, brows rising with surprise, Killa looked up to find he was staring at her. Looking back to her examination of her bowstring, she shrugged one shoulder as her healed arm was still quite tender. "They are given three days' food and water, then banished."(6)

            "How odd. In the order, they're just executed."(7)

            "We are all survivors. And if one of us is guilty of a crime, since they are not a demon, they have a right to live or die as happens," she said as she tested the string, listening to the sound it made.

            "And if they commit the same crime elsewhere?"

            "Then it's someone else's problem. But where we live...it's unlikely they'll survive long enough to do so. Either a demon will find them, or they'll be bait for something we hunt."

            That seemed to silence the templar for the time. Finally, Leah emerged with her pack and crossbow. Glancing up, Killa simply rose and turned to head for the door while the rest worked out the details. All that she was concerned with was which direction to go for this temple and the next step of her quest.

 

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            They were making their way through the Fields of Misery. Despite the name, it was rather dull with only a few twisted and mutated things to slow them down. The goat-men were oddly quiet and kept themselves scarce. Not that any of the three minded. So it did come as a surprise when they neared an old mill upon the road only to have a man trussed up like a holiday roast run toward them.

            "You there! Please help: they're going to kill my friend!(8) he called as he came close.

            Kormac brought his shield up at the ready and even the hunter's eyes narrowed. The sudden encounter struck both as too convenient. Leah wisely stayed behind both of them as they considered the possible trap this might be.

            "Thieves are going to kill my friend if we don't do something!"(9) the stranger panted as he stopped near them. Seeing the suspicious looks, he twisted around and jerked his head up the road toward the mill they had been heading for. "Help me break these bonds, and see for yourself!"(10)

            The hunter continued to regard the man with narrowed eyes. At last though, she decided to risk it. Stepping forward, she motioned for the templar to free the man. It took a few moments before he finally relented and used his polearm's head to slice through the ropes. The stranger immediately started back toward the mill, leaving them to follow.

            "What do they want with your friend?"(11) Killa asked.

            "She's just a farmer's daughter--Sasha...but she has a relic that the thieves are after,"(12) he replied as he reached over the fence to unlatch the gate from the inside.

            As they entered the mill's fenced yard, they heard another man's raised voice before they saw the source.

            "Where is the relic?"(13)

            "I'll never tell you!"(14) said a girl--young from the sound of her frightened voice.

            They came around the trees to see three men in rough garb each holding weapons in their hands surrounding a girl. A fourth had her arms held behind her, trapping her at the mercy of the entire gang. It was apparently the farmer's daughter. Since she and the templar had worked out signals to avoid further accidents in their efforts, he moved around to the left at Killa's nod.

            "Release the girl," she called as she drew her bow. "The relic belongs to her."(15)

            The bandits turned. They looked to the three newcomers before the apparently leader sneered as he looked to the stranger that had been bound. Motioning to the man with his blade, the bandit spit to the side.

            "You actually believe what this scoundrel tells you?" he asked. The hunter only tilted her head to sight along her arrow at his left eye. "Fine, you fools. We'll kill the lot of you!"(16)

            It was no battle. It was a slaughter. The bandits were poorly trained to fight battle-tried soldiers let alone a templar and a demon hunter. Leah's arrows also felled a couple. More bandits burst from the house only to fall to either arrows or the templar's spear. The stranger had found a crossbow somewhere as well and aided them. When the true leader revealed himself, he fell just like the rest.

            "This isn't over," the dying bandit said as he struggled to drag himself closer to the stranger, grabbing his boot. "The rest of the Thieves Guild...will...find you..."(17)

            Killa was listening and took note of the dying warning. Regarding the man intently as he jerked his foot away from the corpse and turned to meet the rush of the girl, she considered. Kormac and Leah had checked the house, freeing the girl's mother who had been tied up in the kitchen. There was no sign of the father or any further bandit troubles.

            "--travel away with my friend here to do so."(18)

            Realizing her attention had wandered off the conversation about marriage and children, the hunter blinked and looked back to the stranger in surprise.

            "You wish to join me?"(19)

            "Yes, yes! You look like you know a lot about markets. Now, lead the way!"(20)

            Her eyes narrowed, able to smell a lie when so blatantly exposed to one. She looked nothing like a market-goer. And she was not the only one giving the man such a look as the templar slowly followed him to the far gate leading back to the road. Once more, there was the urge to just cover her face at the sheer absurdity of the situation. But, they had wasted enough time.

            Leah finished bidding the girl--Sasha--farewell and the silly thing went inside the house to see to her distraught mother. It left the three of them to trail after the man just in time to hear:

            "Wait--the relic is a fake! Gods, I should have known,"(21) the man lamented, throwing the object into the brush.

            Paying him little mind, the hunter turned to Leah.

            "Just where do we need to go from here to reach the temple?"

            The red-head tugged her map free and studied it.

            "Ah, you're looking for that old temple just up the hill? Say no more."

            Waving for them to follow, he started along a nearly invisible trail through the trees. Skeptical, Killa drew another arrow and readied her bow before following. Leah, at a loss, folded the map and followed as well with the templar behind.

            "Well, you seem like you could use a helping hand," the stranger said to the hunter--turning to walk backwards and purposely looking the templar up and down with clear insinuation. "And I sure as hell don't want to stay around here!"(22)

            Kormac was not so thick he missed the implied insult. "Please tell me that you're not considering this criminal's proposal."(23)

            Shaking her head, she remained silent as they followed him along a trail through the trees that led directly onto the old ruins they sought. Had they followed the map it might have taken them another day. They continued until they reached a circle of stone deeply carved with a specific design marking a way point for travelers to make a safe camp. Typically a spot sheltered and defensible.

            "Ah! There you are!"(24) their impromptu guide announced with a grand flourish of his hands.

            "But you made a promise to your betrothed..."(25) Killa began, already eager to be rid of yet another stray-in-the-making.

            "Betrothed?" he chuckled. "Do I look like the marrying kind to you?"(26)

            Spinning agilely, he caught Leah's hand. Taken by surprise, she tensed as he bowed forward to place a kiss to the back of it.

            "By the way, my name is Lyndon."(27)

            And Killa could no longer hold off the urge that had possessed her earlier. Her free hand came up and covered her face with a sound muffled by the leather of her glove. She missed the utterly confounded and aghast look upon Kormac's face. And Leah was left blinking at the grinning scoundrel as she drew her hand back, utterly lost as to how to react.

            "Let's just get the second sword piece," the hunter growled.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

_We encountered the one that the wizard told us had attacked him. She calls herself Maghda and indeed, appears to lead the very coven we came up against within the Cathedral. The templar almost made a fool of himself in his anger, but I cannot really blame him. She taunted him during our encounter. Apparently she had made Kormac's betrayer, Jondar, one of her inner circle. Most of what transpired was beyond me as I am not a templar._

_However, the stench of demons was too strong to brand her merely a witch. She is something far...more than any mere witch I have encountered before. Rather, I think she is one of the more powerful followers of a greater demon. No lesser demon could bestow any such gifts upon a human. Unfortunately, it seems to have made the templar believe he has to stay with me longer--to kill her if nothing else, for turning a revered member of his order into a cultist. I feel there is something more he is not telling me but don't feel like worrying about it._

_Something about what occurred within the drowned temple... I shall not write about what transpired out of respect for the sacred place and its spectral guardians. Needless to say, if anyone should happen to read it, do not attempt to venture into that temple yourselves. The only reason that I was able to enter and pass through was...well, even I do not know for certain. But, what are--or were--the nephalem?_

_I know very well that I have power. I have survived and surpassed all others in my training and abilities. That was why I was given the task of seeking the meteor at Tristram. But how can I be nephalem? Cain and Leah both told me tales of the ancient race and the more they speak of, the more I find certain mysteries in my past make more sense. My curiosity is limited however. I don't care what I am. All I care about is killing demons. If being nephalem aids me in this, I see no reason to bother digging more._

_We retrieved the second piece of the sword in the temple. As we left, I sensed an easing of tension that was nearly gratitude. The spirits there are again able to rest and be at peace. For that much I am glad. Although...I have wondered...if they are--were nephalem, could it also be my fate to become a spirit wandering this world once I die? So long as I can kill demons, I don't think I'd mind that one bit._

_The third and final piece is believed to have fallen in Wortham. The templar and I are currently on the ferry headed there. Only the blind would be unable to see the smoke choking the skies from the village. Even then, they would be able to smell the burning flesh and buildings. The witch Maghda is ahead of us yet again. I only hope we are not too late..._


	9. Kormac's Nightmare

_Cain is dead at Maghda's hands. The cursed witch was two steps ahead of us and not only secured the third sword piece, she captured Cain, Leah and the stranger. Although whatever power Leah possesses overcame Maghda's minions, it was too late to save Cain's life. His final act was to restore the sword to its proper form. His suspicions and mine were proven true. The stranger is an angel, and he has been taken by Maghda to a cursed place._

_While I do mourn Cain's passing, I find myself more concerned with Leah's reaction. There is a strange darkness to her pain that leaves me wondering about myself. My darkness is always with me, but it is guided and controlled. I use the very tools of demons against them. My hatred was borne of fear and I turned it into my power. My rage only fuels it. But even then it took me years of training to be able to control it and focus that power so I did not become what I hunted._

_Leah...is such a gentle soul that I admit a little apprehension about what path she may take. Chaende is well enough to take care of her--even if I am not certain about the wizard's motives, it is the better of two evils. As it is, Leah agreed to aid me in searching Cain's journals for any additional information that may keep us ahead of the growing shadow. Without his presence, she can only turn to his findings._

_The templar and I returned to Wortham in pursuit of the witch. Everything is oddly...silent. Still. It is too quiet. While I may not always know a trap when I see one, this cannot be anything but a lure. But neither of us will back down. This witch will pay for Cain's fall. And once she is dispatched, I will hunt down her master, Belial. I will leave worrying for the stranger to the templar. My hatred must remain focused on my prey._

 

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            The ravings of the old hermit faded behind as the darkness of the caverns engulfed them. A pale light shimmered over their heads, courtesy of the wizard enchanting a small gem to carry in their packs that would help light their way in darker places. It was dim enough for them to see without being bright enough to blind them to the shadowy shapes around them. That and it moved off to one side rather than shine straight on them like a beacon.

            As they moved down the eroded steps to what seemed to be a path, Killashandra took a deep breath. The air was musty and smelled old. She caught the sound of something scrabbling in the distance but it also gave her the idea that there were many tunnels ahead--and many places to fall off the path into black pits. The templar moved past her down the last steps. His armored boots hit something that gave a squelching crunch.

            Looking down, Killa added just enough power to the arrow notched and ready on her long bow so it glowed. The glow was caught by something near them and it caused a chain reaction. Strange sacs of some material lined the corners of the path along the sides of the drop-off. Most moved in pulsing motions as if they were alive. And the templar had stepped directly onto one of them.

            He moved back, disgust twisting his features as he found he was tangled in trailing gunk from the thing. Leaning forward and bending her knees to sink down and get closer, the hunter examined the broken thing. Inside the brittle outer shell were several orbs larger than two fists clenched together. A few were larger, some were smaller. And as she prodded one, a shadow moved inside the pliable shape.

            "The air hangs heavy with the scent of terror. This does not bode well,"(1) Kormac said while trying to scrub the webbing off his boot onto the ground.

            Bringing her head up, the hunter regarded him intently. There was something extremely closed about him now, even if the grimace was gone from his face. His eyes were moving around, looking at the glowing sacs on the ground and on the ceiling over them. It was a dim but good source of light for them to make their way but...that was not why he was looking.

            "What ails you Templar?"(2)

            "Ah, my apologies,"(3) he said, tearing his attention away from the glowing sacs to look at the crouched hunter. "I had a nightmare like this once."(4)

            Straightening, Killa continued to study him intently. Finally, she tilted her head to one side as it clicked. "Is that why you always kept a distance when I conjured my spider?"

            "What? No, not at all!"

            Fighting the smile away, she moved a little closer to him as he shuffled and turned to move onward. When he noticed she was not following him in that direction he paused and slowly looked back as if dreading what he was about to see.

            "I think that the scent of terror...is too fresh to be part of this place, templar. Are you certain you're all right?" she needled a little more.

            Clearing his throat, he snorted and hefted his shield before turning away. "I'm fine, let's get going."

            Amused regardless of the weight of their task, Killa moved to follow him. She was careful not to step on the spider eggs she had been studying. Bow rising, she did pause as their talk reminded her of something. Focusing, her lips moved silently to form words. Shadow gathered near a cluster of egg sacs ahead. Kormac jumped backward when a screech rose, almost falling off the narrow path he had been walking along.

            Instead of a spider, a dark bat fluttered upward to circle him and dart back to the hunter. Landing briefly on her shoulders, it nuzzled her black hair then took off to fly along another path. While the spider might have its uses, the bat extended her own perceptions further as it circled to scout for trouble. Kormac just shot her a black glare and almost stormed forward--almost since there was no guarantee the ground under foot would withstand hard impacts like that.

 

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            Another spiderling's carapace crunched under her foot. The ground had been made slippery by their spilled innards but as long as they moved carefully and kept near the edges of the webbing sprayed onto the stone, they could continue. So far they had only come across swarms of the dog-sized spiders, cocooned bodies typically little more than dust and bone pieces, and egg sacs. The latter, Kormac had taken time and small delight in eradicating.

            So far there had been nothing too difficult for them to handle. And he had managed to overcome his own unease of the place so he was acting his normal, arrogant self. The deeper they pressed into the caverns though, the more a sense of something waiting for them grew. It was making Killa uneasy as nothing had yet been sprung. Not until she was suddenly aware of her bat returning quickly.

            Moving around to face the direction it came from, she narrowed her eyes and peered into the gloom. In a moment the fluttering shadow did appear and made a line straight for her. No racket, she knew its alarm and urgency already as it circled and readied for whatever it had disturbed to arrive. Bringing her bow up, she waited as the templar worked to yank his spear from the webbing snaring it to the floor.

            Her eyes caught motion. It was blackness against shadow, but just enough to give her an idea of shape. And of size. The hazel eyes widened a little as she lifted the bow higher, igniting the arrow with hungry fire while waiting for a definite target.

            "Templar..."

            "Almost got it," he replied without looking up.

            "Templar--"

            "One second!"

            "KORMAC!" she shouted as her gaze darted around to the motion that had surrounded them from above but had yet to reveal itself to the light near them.

            Head snapping up at the same moment his final jerk freed his spear, he looked to Killa then snapped around to follow her current line of sight. What he saw made him freeze, color draining from his skin and resolve fleeing him momentarily. It was no simple spider that dropped from above but a nightmarish monstrosity armored in spikes and thick plates of exo-skeletal growth.

            Killa fired the bolt at it and drew another arrow. But she could not focus on the vile green nightmare descending on Kormac. The bat screeched a warning as it attacked one of the other attacking creatures. These were half the size of the first and more white and black than green and black. Moving as sprays of webs came her way in attempt to snare and slow her, she focused on those nearest her. Hungering arrows and freezing arrows flew in no conscious order.

            Reacting on instinct and training, she fired as needed, letting the cold arrows slow those behind and unleashing burning bolts into those nearest. Dropping a caltrop every time she moved, several of the terrors were snared for easier kills. The bat helped to blind and distract those intent on her while evading her own attacks easily. Then Kormac screamed.

            One final shot into the glistening eyes of her current attacker caused it to explode into a splatter of shattered exoskeleton and gore. Turning, she stepped onto the webbed ground to move with more precision back toward the templar's location. Two of the smaller terrors were dead near him but the large green one was still there. It was missing a couple of legs but the rest had Kormac pinned against the arachnid's body.

            Webbing had trapped the lower half of his body to the floor and effectively snared his weapons as well. The nightmare had fastened itself to his arm and shoulder and the mouth-parts were buried deep into his armor. A sickly green venom was trickling over the armor, attesting that the fangs had not yet pierced the metal. Taking all of that in with a second's glance, the hunter brought her bow up and fired a rapid volley of arrows that burned great holes into the twisted exoskeleton every time they struck.

            Maddened by the pain and attack, the creature released its captive to charge over him toward the hunter. In that moment, the bat attacked, blinding the beady eyes and making the thing hesitate and rise to strike at the small assailant. It left the creature's belly and chest exposed to Killa who wasted no time in reducing the thinner under-armor to ruin. Gore and innards splattered over the floor as the thing shrieked and collapsed to the side.

            Spinning back to the remaining attackers still caught in her traps, she dispatched them and made her way toward Kormac.

            "I...can't...move!" he strained to say even as he thrashed and struggled against the webbing with all of his strength.

            Lowering her weapon, she got in closer to study the webbing. It was then she saw how the sticky stuff was dissolving beneath the flow of the arachnid's venom where it still oozed down the templar's armor. Turning away, she went to the large terror's corpse and gave it a hard shove to roll it over. A messy but swift search revealed the venom sac she sought. It was damaged and leaking but held enough venom for her purpose.

            Returning to Kormac, she poured the venom over the webbing encasing him. A putrid smell rose as hisses came from the dissolving webbing. In a few more seconds, the templar broke free and staggered to the side only to crash to the ground gasping for breath. Tossing the depleted sac away, the hunter wiped what venom and gore had clung to her gloves off on the still-sticky webbing left.

            Putting her bow aside as the bat landed on the rock above them to take up sentry duty, Killa grabbed some of the rags left after an unfortunate victim had been reduced to dust in the caves. Using them, she cleaned herself up and set to work on the broken armor on Kormac's chest. It would not do to leave such a viscous venom clinging to the twisted metal now lest it accidentally get through.

            Nothing was said. After a few moments, Kormac had collected himself enough to get himself in order. Leaving him to the task, the hunter took up her bow and rose to scan the area around them for further threat. The silence began to grow heavy from where Kormac was sitting.

            "Are you ever afraid in battle?"(5) he finally asked.

            "If I have ever felt fear, it has been consumed by my hatred,"(6) she responded without looking at him.

            The silence returned for a moment. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked to Kormac as he went still. He was staring at the ground but the way his eyes were unfocused, he probably was not seeing it. Frowning in thought herself, Killa turned slowly to face him once more. He did not show any sign of noticing as she moved to sink to one knee at his side.

            "My faith...armors me against fear..."(*) he mumbled finally.

            Although she should have remained silent, there was a sense that he wanted her to say something. It took him looking at her before she finally gave in and voiced the thoughts that were probably plaguing his mind.

            "But you are wondering why it did not work this time."

            He nodded slowly and his eyes fell again.

            "No one is perfect."

            "You are. I haven't once seen you falter in battle regardless of what we've faced," he said with a tone of self-recrimination.

            Killa sighed and shook her head. "I've been training for over twenty years to kill demons and control my emotions. Hate is all that I let myself know." Rising, she turned and moved away. "It's an easier path than faith. So don't be discouraged when you stumble. Yours is the more difficult path."

            Behind her, she heard the templar gather his weapon and shield and rise. His steps were slow but steady at her back as he again followed her. The bat chattered as it swooped over their heads and returned to scouting their path through the caverns. Neither of them said anything more as they pressed deeper into the darkness.


	10. More Musings

_Maghda continues to elude us. Every time I get close, she slips through my grasp. And every time she leaves a demon in my path as an obstacle. While this gives me an outlet for my hatred and provides a small pleasure when they fall for the final time before me, I want her. Not any random demon, not some worthless flock of cultists, her. And I will have her. Only now that I have ruined her last plans with the stranger, she has an actual use for me beyond vengeance. She will lead me to her master._

_The stranger. It is a pity that Cain perished before he learned that it was no random angel that fell to this world. The Archangel of Justice himself fell. Tyrael. A name to finally go with the face. Only, as he told me, angels have no faces. Rather, whatever face they have is but a void as they are the reflection of the good within us all. Demons have faces because our nightmares do. They have faces to frighten and disgust us in order to further their own powers._

_Such events only lay to rest a couple of mysteries I had already guessed at. Only an angel could have healed my broken arm so suddenly. Even if it had not been healed completely, and even if his mind was shattered, Tyrael helped me do in days what it might have taken weeks or months to overcome._

_In the end, it matters little to me. Tyrael arranged for a caravan to take us to Caldeum--the great city where he said the darkness is taking root. And the place he came to warn us was but the first step for the last remaining Lords of Hell to launch their final attack upon our world. I cannot wait to meet these cursed creatures face to face. If they require a face to spread fear, then they shall know mine as the last fear they ever see._

 

_I am growing concerned about the templar though. Ever since the incident in the spider's lair, he has been unnaturally subdued. What few taunts he has thrown out at cultists or demons attacking us have been lacking their usual bravado. No, his usual confidence. When we entered Leoric's ancient torture chambers to find them in full use, it grew worse. Every time I look upon him now I see a grim, aged figure._

_After our return to Tristram, Haedrig provided him with a new set of armor, primarily plate with more bulk than his leather-metal mix. The new shield is larger and shaped in a way that should come in useful for both of us. I'll have to explore that later. My own armor was finished as well and while heavier than what I'm used to, it's not much more difficult to move in than my old armor was. Haedrig truly knows his craft well._

_What really concerns me is that after we had bathed and rested, Lyndon--a thief we aided and has stuck around since--has been teasing him. This time, the templar is barely even rising to the jabs. In truth, I think that the scoundrel is worried as well since he has hardly attempted to flirt with Leah or myself once since we returned. Leah has been too preoccupied with laying Cain to rest before we depart to notice._

_Tonight, once the caravan is underway, I will have a talk with the templar. If he does not cease this odd behavior...it may just lead us to getting killed. And...maybe I am just worried about him for other reasons..._

 

_I've been having strange dreams the last few nights. I cannot really figure out what they could mean, but they are not random fancies of a wandering mind. Maybe Leoric's torture chambers had an effect on me as well. And Lyndon--if you have yet again "borrowed" this, know that if you read further I will kill you and dump your carcass over the next dune we cross for the carrion feeders to glut themselves on._

_My dreams all revolve around the templar. While I have no gift of foresight or prophecy, these are troubling things. It is almost as if I am re-living the events that led up to our first encounter but with something...different. I cannot pin it down. I still see the same demonic circle, the cultists, the sight of him thrashing at the heart of their torment. In the dreams however, I hear him scream as he did in the caves._

_And in these dreams, I do not act, I stay at the top of the stairs against the railing unseen. Then all I do is watch, listen, and breathe. Every time he screams in my dreams...I cannot really figure out a way to describe my reactions aside from...darkness and hunger unfamiliar to me. But always the dream ends the same. I finally move into view and follow the same actions I took to free him. And every time I release my bow's string to fire the first arrow, I wake with the chanting still in my ears._

_The other troubling fact is that...I have no memory of the chant when I freed him. They were speaking too low for me to make it out. Yet, I am certain what I hear so clearly in my dreams is what they were saying. That certainty makes me wonder just what I am trying to tell myself in my sleep. Did they do something to Kormac that has only now begun to reveal itself? Or...is something going on that I'm just oblivious to? I am very well aware that hatred blinds. Could it be that my hate is blindi--_


	11. Purification Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Templar storyline spoilers are contained within this chapter. They are NOT in the order which you unlock them. Read at your own discretion. Chapter contains H/C and BDSM themes.

            "Killashandra..."

            Tucking the journal away, the hunter sat up and turned to face Kormac. The templar was fully armored as he had been for the last few days. All of the group to join the caravan had their reasons to remain ready to fight at a moment's notice. Primarily because they were hunting a witch who knew they were coming. It meant the caravan could be ambushed or attacked at any moment during the journey. Other than a sand storm scattering the beasts of burden for a day, nothing had happened yet.

            "Yes, templar?" she asked.

            He was quiet for several moments. She noticed that he was still not looking at her, even though addressing her. It had been the same for everyone else he had to speak with as well. Her concern grew.

            "I wanted... That is... Can we speak?"

            Catching his meaning quickly--especially given the glance he sent toward where Leah and Lyndon were currently talking--the hunter rose. She snagged her bow and quiver from habit and nodded.

            "Of course."

            Kormac nodded, turning quickly to walk with a measured step toward the edges of the caravan camp. The night was a good one, peaceful and calm with just enough chill to bite and enough heat lingering in the sand to keep one comfortable. The stars sparkled and shone brightly in a sky dusted with only a couple of clouds. Even with such calm and beauty, there was no peace and Killa was alert as she sent her bat out to scout the area around them for any hints of threat.

            "Thank you for helping me to fight the darkness," Kormac said suddenly. "To contend with evil is the essence of what it means to be a Templar."(1)

            Rolling her shoulders, the hunter shrugged. "So long as you don't get in my way."(2)

            "But I have, haven't I." It was not a question.

            "I like to think we've gotten past that. It was a rough start, but we both adapted and came through the trial the better for it."

            Silence fell again as they walked. Now more than ever she could tell something was troubling the templar. She could almost sense its weight upon his shoulders. However, she remained quiet and gave him time to broach the subject he clearly wanted to discuss in his own time.

            "How were you initiated as a Demon Hunter?" he suddenly asked.

            Killa blinked and looked toward him. "A group of them found me after my family was butchered. They asked me if I wanted to hunt demons, and I said yes!"(3)

            "That seems...simple enough," he said.

            "How about you? Were you raised a templar in the order?"(4)

            "No. Our scripture says, "As a farmer reaps his wheat, so must the order harvest and purify the weeds."(5) I was...initiated more formally than you were in your order."

            Considering that, Killa nodded, "Much more complicated."

            "But your order destroys monsters. Mine redeems them."(5)

            "Perhaps you should save redemption for those who seek it," she said. "To force redemption on those who do not seek it, is like forcing corruption on those who did not wish it."

            It brought a response at last given the way his mouth opened and emotion flared in his eyes briefly. Too briefly though. Instead of firing a response back, he closed his mouth and sighed. Frowning, the hunter turned her attention to where the bat was completing another wide circle. All was clear. Then she returned her attention to the armored figure beside her.

            "Looking at it in that light, I'm no better than the monsters we have been putting down," he finally said.

            She shook her head. "I have seen enough monsters to know that you aren't one of them."(6)

            He said nothing. Finally, even Killa's patience was exhausted since she saw he was sinking even deeper into himself.

            "Kormac, just what is on your mind? You're speaking in circles and falling deeper into whatever burden this is you cling to."

            Drawing to a stop, the templar just stood there. Intent on some answers, the hunter stopped as well and turned to face him, waiting.

            "Do...you remember what we spoke of in that cursed torture chamber?" he asked in a voice almost too soft for her to hear.

            "Yes. About facing our fears and recognizing strength when we see it."

            "Well...I meant more about...talking about our pasts."

            "I remember," she said after a moment. "You mentioned that inquisitors stripped your sins and memories of them from you." She shook her head, "I don't fully understand your order's motivations. Why do they take your past from you?"(7)

            "Our initiation blinds us to our sinful pasts so that we might clearly see the future and prepare for the final battle,"(8) he said as if reciting something he had heard or been forced to repeat over and over again.

            "I see," Killa said, her frown returning as she began to grasp where the talk was going. "And how does your order purge your memory?"(9)

            Now Kormac went silent. This time, she could read the emotions crossing his face as he warred with himself over something. Biting the inside of her cheek lightly to remain silent, she waited as he struggled with himself. Finally, he took a deep breath and lifted his head to stare off to one side of the hunter.

            "I was chained to a wall and beaten. By the third day, I was mad from pain and hunger. That is when the whipping began. I was told I relived all of my transgressions, everything that brought me tainted joy. The whip took away that joy, then the sin, leaving me pure."(10)

            For a moment, it was all Killa could do to contain the rage that rose in response to hearing that. It was so easy to picture in her mind as well given how she had first come upon the templar. She could see him chained to a wall with only rags to leave him decent, beaten and bloody, raving from hunger and thirst. She could also see his broad back being laid open by the repeated bite of the lash.

            And in that last thought, something inside her tingled and tightened with the hunger she had felt in her dreams. Hunger for...something other than death or another kill. It was alien and so enticing. Giving her head a sharp shake, her glare fell to the man before her.

            "Restraint bolsters the weak, not pain. You have suffered needlessly!"(11)

            Kormac's head snapped toward her, matching glare for glare. "Don't you understand? The templar order is trying to protect humanity from extinction! What is my pain against that goal?"(12)

            Glaring into his eyes, she suddenly realized that although they were speaking of one thing, he was trying to say something else entirely. Of course it was linked but, not the same. She was seeing pain and fear in his eyes as well as righteous anger. Even his tone was saying something other than the provided argument. With that revelation, her own anger sputtered and faded. He had to have seen it in her eyes as well because shame flared before he suddenly turned away.

            "Templar..."

            He ignored her and walked away. Standing there for a moment, Killa was suddenly aware of that dark hunger making more things inside her body tighten. Only now...she had her own inner demon to wrestle with. And the damned man only made it worse.

            "Kormac," she called in a low voice.

            He stopped but did not turn back.

            "...are you...asking me to help you with something? Something you cannot bring yourself to say?"

            Even with full plate, she could tell his shoulders tensed from the way the dim starlight shifted over the edges.

            "Your valor places you amongst the highest ranks of my order,"(13) he said with tension and resignation in his voice.

            "Thank you," she responded, moving closer to him. "But I'm more proud to call you my friend."(14)

            "As am I."(15) Some of the tension eased before he bowed his head. "Only the highest ranking members of the order...are pure enough...to purify others..."

            Killa froze mentally for a moment. He turned around as she stood there, silently starting to curse at nothing in particular save her suspicions again proving to be true.

            "You fight with both honor and ferocity. I know that a pure soul must burn within you,"(16) he continued. She saw a nameless plea in his green eyes at last. "Killashandra... Please...please purge me of my sins!"

            One of his hands rose and she glanced down. A part of her wondered where he had carried the whip he now offered her as she had not seen it on his person before. She also had not been looking for it.

            "Templar..."

            "Please! You're the only one I can turn to for this!" he begged with voice and eyes.

            Killa caught a sharp breath as images, sounds, sensations from her dream suddenly assailed her. That tingling, dark need was there again, making something below her stomach clench and tighten in ways that left her light-headed. Then she understood what she was feeling. While her training and hatred had helped her to forget the sensations tied to most emotions, she was not a maiden nor inexperienced in worldly ways. It had just taken her a while to remember.

            "Do you even know what you're asking, templar?" she inquired, already knowing the answer.

            "I do," he responded with more conviction and certainty in his voice than she had heard for over a week. "I have fought with this, turned it over and over in my mind. But I'm a templar. I cannot and will not deny the truth. And the truth is, I need this."

            Even cursing up a storm in her mind did not make her hesitate when her hand took the offered whip from his open hand. The relief and gratitude in his eyes was almost painful to behold. This time it was she who looked away. Attempting to compose herself with several deep breaths, she scanned their surroundings with her own eyes as well as the senses of the conjured bat scouting the area.

            The caravan was about one more day away from Caldeum so they had made the final camp in a rocky area for shelter against the wind-driven sand that often came and went without warning. During their talk they had walked into an open area of the sand. The bat spotted a smaller outcropping of rocks not much further from where they were standing. A nod in the right direction and they headed toward it.

            "Kormac, how...thorough do you want me to be?"

            He was silent for several steps. Clearly still warring with himself, he shivered as if chilled before answering without lifting his head. "No broken bones. No severely flayed flesh. Make me heal myself of the worst after...and make certain I will be able to fight tomorrow."

            "Very well."

            Going silent, he nodded. They moved into the rocks and Kormac set his spear and shield aside to begin removing his armor. Although Killa stepped forward to help with the pieces he could not reach the fastenings to, he moved away from any further help. Shortly, he was stripped down to the leather leggings, linen shirt, and boots. As he stripped off his shirt, she placed her own weapons aside and toyed with the whip in her hands, thinking.

            "I am ready."

            Looking up, she turned to see him standing facing the rocks. His hands were braced, arms spread open, body angled forward and back bared. Only his loincloth worn beneath the leather leggings remained. Surprised, she found herself momentarily frozen. Heart beating faster, her eyes roamed over the body on display before her. Muscle bunched and twitched as he waited patiently for her to begin but he did not move from his position.

            Even if there was a part of her mind screaming that this was wrong, that it would make her no better than the monsters that had first raped him of his past and who he was, the majority of her felt...free. Reservations slipped away as she stepped toward the man. He was truly an impressive specimen, toned and dangerous, deadly...and hers to toy with. The darkness she had embraced upon becoming a Demon Hunter rose around her and she consumed it.

            He flinched when she brushed the coiled whip across his lower back and up his side to rest against the back of his shoulder. The action had achieved what she wanted. His eyes had opened and he turned his head to look at her. She lightly tapped the whip on his shoulder and stepped back. Free hand rising, she began to trace the symbols to conjure another companion as the bat continued to stand sentry.

            "Do you know why you are being punished, templar?"

            When the black spider took shape, he shuddered and almost flinched away. The arm closest to the arachnid moved away--only to have him push it back into place after a moment of effort.

            "I allowed my faith to waver," he whispered. "I was weak enough to doubt...I faltered in my duty."

            Killa watched him struggle to stay still as the spider approached him and crawled a few feet up the wall. With his eyes fixed on her companion, she reached out to lightly trail the whip up and down his spine. Each time he shuddered. When the spider moved its legs to web his hands securely to the rock, his eyes closed as his breath quickened. He managed to endure the first torment as the spider secured his other hand to the stone. Then, it climbed into place to rest on the wall over his head.

            "No, templar," she said, making his head jerk up to turn and open his eyes to see her. "That is not why you are to be punished."

            Kormac opened his mouth to say something only to have her press his leather belt between his teeth.

            "You will want to bite down on that."

            Nodding in response, he let his head fall forward once more. Moving back, the hunter stepped around behind his splayed form and finally released the coils from her fingers. The whip hissed softly as it fell but he heard it. Just as he heard the rush of air and the crack that laid the first strip of fire across his back. A sound left him before he steeled himself for the next blow.

            The first few cracks of the whip were more to test his response. Given they were not that far from the camp site, if he were too loud someone might come investigate. Apparently the rocks around them were angled to carry the sound away from the camp. Her bat picked up nothing but a faint sound from their location and no one in the camp seemed alarmed or curious in any way.

            Killa accepted those findings and turned her full attention to Kormac. The sun-baked rock retained enough heat that a thin skein of sweat had formed on his back around the unbroken skin throbbing red from her first blows. Adjusting her stance for a better angle and more control--as the whip was one of the many weapons and tools she had been trained to use to fight with if ever parted from a bow--she drew her arm back.

            Her next blow made Kormac jerk sharply as another sound was torn from his throat, muffled by teeth sunk deep into leather. The lash parted flesh, finally making a mark on him as blood flowed. Eyes narrowing, she focused her strength to maintain it with every following strike. The whip cracked again and again. Each time flesh parted and blood flowed as she laid mark after mark on the templar's body.

            Chest beginning to rise and fall sharply from her exertions, she focused on that jerking, shuddering body. As blood began to stain the sand in small drops and trickles, she let her hatred bleed free to further fuel her blows. Kormac lurched and writhed before her, dancing and twisting in a rictus of pain only sweetened by blood and sweat. The scent of hot flesh, blood, tears, and agony fueled that dark hunger like dry wood to a fire.

            Only when the templar suddenly sagged, legs giving out to leave him held up only by the tough webbing securing his hands and arms to the stone did she pause. Tongue darting out over her own lips, she swallowed hard and let her lips part again to try and catch her breath. Sweat had formed beneath her own armor as well as a distinct wetness pooling between her thighs, trapped against her skin by the leather and cloth beneath it.

            Moving, stretching out and relaxing her arms and shoulders, flexing her knees and hips to remove the aches of a workout she was unaccustomed to, she approached the sagging templar. Leaning forward, she slid her hand under his head to lift it. She found no resistance and used her whip-bearing hand to catch his head before it fell too sharply backward.

            Sweat and tears marked his face, making dirty trails where he had pressed his head against the rock several times in effort to stay quiet. Scrapes from the stone and sand were also visible. The chocolate hair was matted with sweat and nearly black from it as it clung to her glove. Blood even marked his lips where he had bitten them in effort to keep the belt between his teeth the few times he had almost dropped it from aborted screams.

            "Templar," she said, fighting back the softer desire to call his name.

            With effort, he opened his eyes. Pain burned as brightly as fever within the forest green gaze as he blinked rapidly to clear away excess tears and see her. He relaxed his jaw when she gave the belt a tug. There would be teeth marks in the leather for a long time to come.

            "Do you know why you are being punished?" she asked again.

            Killa watched the mind behind those pain-drowned eyes struggle to grasp the question and push an answer past those bloody lips and strained jaw.

            "I...I...failed...I sinned..."

            She made her eyes grow cold as she shook her head and pressed the belt back against his teeth. He took it automatically, but there was confusion in is eyes.

            "No, templar. That is not why you are being punished. Heal yourself."

            Turning away, she moved back to her prior spot. Kormac gave a strangled sob--but he did not spit the belt out to beg her to stop. Instead, he did as she had ordered. Golden light rose from his form and shimmered with shy flickers across his ruined back, drawing flesh together and restoring skin to cover muscle. It faded swiftly and left him shaking with the drain. So, she drew her arm back again and sent the lash flying.

            Briefly, her stomach twisted with a sickened sensation as flesh peeled away from muscle once more. Her focus was interrupted by the random thought of just how long he wanted her to do this. Then he cried out again and twisted that hot, tingling throb in her loins. Catching her breath sharply, she squirmed a little before striking once more. Of course his back was not her only target either. Stripes of red marked his thighs and arms as well as curling across his buttocks and shoulders.

            At last, her arm aching and throbbing from her exertions, she stopped. Chest again heaving for needed breaths, she slumped against the stone to relax complaining, aching muscles. Pulling herself together, she again approached Kormac's head. Reaching out, her fingers gripped the sweat-drenched hair to draw his head back. The weight was heavy in her hand as his face was again bared for her to study.

            He managed to open his eyes on his own this time as the belt slipped from a jaw that went lax at her touch. Pain made his eyes emerald green, bright and clear and burning. It was almost as if she could see the light within him caged behind his gaze.

            "Templar," she said with a voice far harder than her current emotions warranted. This time, while something rose to fill his eyes, it was not the man she had come to tolerate and even like. Nevertheless, she asked the question, "Why are you being punished?"

            Bloodied lips moved, trying to form words against hitching, sobbing breaths. A voice as cracked as the desert earth finally broke free.

            "...not....p-punished....puh-purif...fied..."

            To her own surprise, she felt a smile crossing her lips. Nodding, she decided enough was enough. "Good. You've passed your trial, templar. Heal yourself, and rest."

            Killa had no clue where in the Hells her words were coming from. Whatever thing invented them however, she was gifted with seeing those burning green eyes of some broken man fill with light. That light bled through his very skin, surrounded his body and closed the deepest of the wounds that had bared the bone beneath. It pulled the skin back together and knitted the flesh and muscle beneath.

            "...th-thank......you..." he gasped.

            His body sagged even as she was rewarded with seeing Kormac fill those burning green eyes once more before they collapsed. She found herself cradling his head in her hands, suspended from the rock unconscious, and mostly healed. With a shuddering sigh, she turned her head to look up to the spider resting over them. It crept down and began to use its own venom to dissolve the webbing without contacting his flesh.

            It took a while and a decent struggle given the templar was a heavy man when unconscious, but between the spider and the hunter, they managed to lay him down on the ground. Her companion spread their cloaks out and she maneuvered them both onto the cloth. Then she sent the arachnid back to camp to fetch some water. It left her alone in the rocks with Kormac's head pillowed on her lap.

            Shaken by what had just transpired, she just stared down at his bloodied form as her fingers slowly slid through his hair in idle petting and soothing motions. From her own experiences she knew his body would be extremely sore for days and the newly healed skin extremely tender. The muscles beneath would retain a bruised feeling for over a week before his body finished its natural healing.

            When the spider returned with the water skin, she took it and one of the cloths Kormac used to clean his weapons. Wetting it, she began to clean him up and help his feverishly hot body cool down at the same time. All the while that she worked, Killashandra wondered just what had been wrought by their actions...primarily her own, as there was still a sticky wetness between her legs and a feeling of that dark, tingling hunger lingering without satisfaction.


	12. Desert Mind

            The sun was near to rising. It was visible from where a very wide-awake hunter sat in the shadows of a rocky outcropping amidst pale golden sands. She stared at the distant horizon as the light bled through the night and began to push it away for the coming day. And although it was truly a beautiful sight, the stormy hazel eyes were not fully appreciating the view since the mind behind them was caught in a chaotic storm of thoughts.

            Killashandra had not moved once the blood and grit had been washed from Kormac's unconscious body. Covering his almost completely nude body with her cloak, she left his head on her lap to sleep himself out. Her armor had managed to keep her warm enough and in truth, cold had never really bothered her much at all. Neither did heat, even if both could affect her, she simply did not care much about either.

            One hand rested lightly curled about Kormac's neck. His pulse rested beneath her fingertips. Slow, steady. It was how she knew he was asleep rather than just unconscious. And it also provided her first alarm when one of the beats came a little faster. Blinking at long last, the hunter lowered her gaze to regard the man. He would be waking soon. She was not ready to face him, yet.

            Very carefully and slowly as not to hasten his return to the living, she disentangled herself and gently lowered his head to rest on his cloak which was the one they had been resting upon. Rising quietly, she moved to where her bow and quiver rested. Picking them up, she stepped around the spider crouching in the opening between the rocks. A simple hand signal told it to stay and continue to guard as she moved off.

            Moving out onto the sands, the bat put in its appearance and dropped to her shoulders. Although it was not exceedingly large, it was as big as her head so both shoulders and her back were required for its perch. The companion nuzzled her hair for a moment longer than it normally did before taking off once more. As it flew--she gently undid the magic--it became a puff of shadow that dissipated like wind-caught smoke.

            Walking toward the growing light, she paused to glance behind her. No wind erased her footprints. In the early predawn, it was rare for the air to be stirred on any given day regardless of the region. She knew such things from her field training when she was in her later teens. Her mentors had been very strict about learning everything she could in addition to her fighting abilities. Sadly, nothing they had taught her was helping her to sort through her thoughts.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The soft clanking of metal against metal as someone made their way across the sands broke her out of her dark trail of thought. Although at first she suspected it was Kormac, there was something vastly different. Even before she opened her eyes and turned her head toward the source of the sound, she knew who it was that approached her.

            "Tyrael."

            "Shandra," came the rich, deep voice.

            A very faint smile touched her lips before she looked away from the approaching ex-angel.

            "No one's called me that for...many years."

            "I know. The last one to call you that was your second mentor," the large man said as he drew to a stop beside her.

            A brief pang of pain and loss caused her heart to clench briefly as she bowed her head once more to resume her meditation. Of course, she knew it was futile. Even before she had been interrupted, she had not been able to clear her mind enough to enter the heightened state of focus. Still, as stubborn as always, she attempted it again. Time passed. At last she let go of the attempt and opened her eyes again to stare at the golden-white washed horizon.

            "Something is troubling you, Shandra," Tyrael said softly as he too watched the sunrise break. "I felt it even from the camp. Even you should not have come this far out without at least letting Leah know."

            The hunter remained quiet. The ex-angel's golden eyes finally turned toward her once more. Killa had seated herself on a sharp dune formed by sand that had been blown over a broken old cart's debris. Positioned lotus style, she looked almost relaxed. But even without the lingering gloom of the retreating night, he saw shadows on her face and in her eyes where there should have been none.

            "Leah always worries. She's a good girl, kind and gentle. By now, she should know I can take care of myself."

            "That knowledge will not make her stop worrying. If anything, her caring nature only makes her worry more for those she has gotten close to."

            "Cain's loss is still an open wound on her heart," the hunter mused.

            "As humans say, "It takes one to know one", correct?"

            Nodding once, the hunter went silent once more as a frown worked its way across her lips and furrows creased her forehead above and between her sharply angled brows.

            "You have something you need to speak about, don't you, Shandra?"

            "Since you know that name and the source of it, may I safely assume you know some of my past?"

            Tyrael was quiet for a few moments before nodding, "Yes, I do. I was the Arch-Angel of Justice. And try as I might, long as I might, I was unable to come to you that day. Just as I failed to serve my stead for those who took you in and taught you how to survive."

            "No one can be perfect all of the time," she said with a bitter voice.

            "Are you thinking of your family now?" he asked.

            "No," she responded almost sharply. "I've been thinking about...my path. About what I've been taught. I've been turning over every aspect of training I can remember, every slip of conversation had with my mentors."

            "You are seeking some sort of answer then," he mused.

            The hazel eyes were cold and sharp when they turned to him. His own golden eyes bore heat and light that only reminded her of the look within Kormac's eyes in the final moments before he lapsed into unconsciousness. Suddenly uncomfortable, she looked back toward the sunrise. But Tyrael had seen something in that brief moment.

            "Perhaps I may provide some answers, if I but knew the questions," he offered.

            "I'm not even sure what questions to ask at this point," she admitted.

            "Why not begin with the heaviest weight upon your mind at this moment?"

            Sighing, she shook her head. However, his advice was sound according to her own common sense. The problem was that so many thoughts were crashing together that she just had no clue which to speak on.

            "Cain and Leah have both told me tales about nephalem. I have read some of the tales myself. But...they are accounts made by some third or fourth party. The information is...faulty and scattered."

            Turning her head, Killa looked at Tyrael once more and locked gazes. "I know that you have the knowledge I seek. Just as I know you misted through what you did tell me because there were other ears keenly bent on our words. Just what is a nephalem and what does it mean beyond being an ancient race stronger and more powerful than humans?"

            "You already have the answers within you, this I know," Tyrael began as he studied Killa's eyes, searching for something. "What has caused this chaos that I see inside your eyes?"

            Snorting, she looked away for a moment. Changing her mind just as swiftly, she looked back. One question had finally risen from her frustration.

            "Just what does it **mean** to be nephalem, half demon and half angel?"

            Tyrael was quiet for a moment as he considered the question. His attention moved away for a moment before one arm rose so he could point to the horizon before them.

            "It means that within you resides the potential for great good _and_ great evil. Where angels are pure good, demons are pure evil. But both sides have a balance within you. Nephalem were--are--a completely different being from what had been before." His arm lowered as he looked back to her. "Just as this world has a sunrise, so too does it have a sunset. While angels are the day and demons are the night...you, nephalem and humans, are the points between the two."

            Kills turned his words over slowly in her mind, ignoring all other chaotic thoughts to focus on the information. "No human is ever purely good or purely evil."

            "No. While the balance within their souls may be tilted more toward one than the other, they will never be anything other than human."

            Her teeth found the inside of her cheek to chew on thoughtfully. Arms moving and dispelling the grip of numbness that had set into her body, she shifted at last to renew circulation.

            "But that concerns humans. And from what I've understood, nephalem are...not human."

            Tyrael paused to consider his words. At last, he shook his head, "No, not in that sense. Nephalem only became mortal--their children becoming the humans of today--after many different manipulations and struggles. Have you heard of the Worldstone?"

            "I remember that part of Cain's records. Which brings me to another question: How can I be nephalem when I was born of humans?"

            "The same way that any creature can become something else. Even though humans are stripped of the powers of the nephalem, they are still creatures of both good and evil. They all possess the potential to be something more, the potential of power. That is why the demons are so interested in this world and those within it."

            Tyrael turned and moved around to face the seated hunter. It blocked the strengthening light from the horizon and made her look up once more. Once he was certain he had her full attention, he continued.

            "You are one of the strongest, most stubborn, most willful beings I have ever met. While I knew you before and often wound up watching you mold yourself into a weapon in pursuit of vengeance, you never quite managed to take the final step to follow the path of justice. At least, not for yourself. But you have always tread beside it. And even now, you stand just shy of something else as you look for your path in the chaos."

            Her eyes narrowed as she tried to follow his words, seeking to figure out just where he was trying to lead her. It made surprise flicker in her eyes when his large hand fell to rest on her shoulder and grip lightly.

            "Tell me what happened last night to place these shadows upon you, Shandra."

            When she remained silent, hesitant, he leaned forward.

            "I give you my oath that nothing you tell me shall ever pass beyond the two of us."

            Once he had spoken, her shoulders sagged as if the weight of his hand had removed the weight of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she released it in a rush.

            "If you were still an angel, and unable to lie, I would trust in such an oath more."

            "I may be mortal, Shandra, but I am still Tyrael. And my word is my bond...just as yours is."

            That made the faint hint of a smile touch her lips once more. It was apparently what he had aimed for.

            "If you were aware of me from time to time as I grew up, then I'm sure you're more than familiar with the Templars."

            Tyrael nodded, "Yes, there is hardly an angel that is unaware of them and their goals. In fact, they probably have more watchful eyes upon them than even the demons do."

            Her eyes and voice hardened. "Then you know better than I what their initiations involve."

            Whatever he might have been expecting, clearly it had not been that subject. Straightening, he withdrew a little but kept his hand on her shoulder. "Ah."

            Nodding, her lips twisted into a bitter line. "Kormac asked me...to purify him last night."

            "That is considered a very high honor amongst their order."

            "I'm aware," she growled.

            "Did it...did you help him?" the ex-angel asked.

            "Yes," she said and looked to the side.

            "Given what I have witnessed of your skills and abilities, and your outlook on your tasks, I'm afraid I am still missing something."

            Muscle leapt and twitched along the line of her jaw as she clenched it repeatedly. Chewing on her own thoughts, she squirmed a little. "It...did not...affect me the way it should have."

            Tyrael tilted his head, curious now. Especially when he saw the first darker signs of a rising flush. Puzzled by the color suffusing her skin, he withdrew his hand and just watched her shift again.

            "How did it affect you?"

            "...I...enjoyed it."

            Now it was his turn to be silent. Killa had a pretty good idea why it was so. Bringing one hand up, she growled and raked her fingers through her hair, combing out some tangles obtained the previous night. In a few more moments, the quiet was starting to eat at her. She nearly jumped when Tyrael spoke again.

            "If I am to understand this... You spent the night engaged in a templar purification ritual, and rather than be outraged or discomforted by it--"

            "It turned me on, all right?" she hissed, feeling her ears and neck burn hotly. "Torturing Kormac in the stead of one of those monsters made me horny instead of horrifying or pissing me off!"

            Tyrael found himself moved by the sudden ferocity in the hunter before him. Surprise warred with confusion as he stood there. Killa snorted and moved to slide off the rock, standing up. Turning, she was ready to walk away, suddenly in no mood to endure more talk or more of his presence. A hand on her arm halted her.

            "Shandra, are you worried that this...um, problem...might mean..." he trailed off, clearly not certain how to phrase the question.

            Justified that she was not the only one struggling with what she had experienced, she turned back to face him.

            "I remember what my first mentor taught me. I've been sitting here turning over every conversation I had with her. When I accepted the offer to kill demons, she was the one that made sure I understood how dangerous my path would be. To hunt demons using their own devices is to open ourselves to their influence. It is why strict discipline must be maintained at all times. It's why we must temper and focus our hatred to keep it under our own control. To use fear, to tap into the darkness, to twist our own fears and rage into power, is to risk being consumed by it."

            "And because you enjoyed causing Kormac pain, you are concerned that you're slipping into the darkness that is demonic?"

            "Yes."

            Again he was quiet. During those moments however, she was able to meet his eyes and keep her head upright. Shame, confusion, uncertainty, and disgust all warred and twisted inside her. Beneath them was the one thing she had been poking and jabbing at for the last two hours: desire. She wanted it again.

            "The road that you've chosen is hardly an easy one, regardless of what you've told others. You've harnessed the darkness and bent it to your will." Stepping closer, he gently gripped her chin only to have his wrist caught in an iron-strong grip felt through his armor. "Shandra, do you desire to cause pain and suffering to humans? To innocents?"

            The question made her pause and think. Images came to her all too swiftly. Her own family butchered--drawn and quartered like so much meat. The horrified visages of the dead and the undead she had encountered. The screams of men, women, and children as they were cut down. Tyrael, Leah, Cain, Lyndon, all screaming in pain by her hand. It was like being plunged from fire into icy water.

            "What? No!" she jerked away from his grasp.

            Smiling, Tyrael shook his head. "Then you are no demon. I've only been mortal a short while, but I have already seen much through both angelic and mortal eyes. And I know you've seen some of the same things. This desire I see in your eyes is not the first step to falling. You know this as well."

            "Do I?" she mumbled, completely embarrassed. "I...I want to hear him scream...for me. I want to hear it again, and know that he's screaming for me because I was the one to make him lose that control. How is that not evil?"

            "Is his pain all you wish from him, Shandra?" Tyrael asked softly.

            "No..." she murmured. Her traitorous mind was already supplying her with images and sensations of just what else she would like to do. The blush was back, burning across her jaw and up over her cheeks and forehead.

            "Then, it is not evil."

            Doubt was in her eyes when she could swallow her embarrassment and look back to his golden-crystal eyes. His smile was still so gentle and knowing, so old yet timeless. It did give her comfort as she found a calm beginning to creep around her so that the blush faded slowly.

            "The path of a demon hunter is a dark one, Shandra. You sacrifice your heart, your mind, and even your soul to take up the tools of evil and turn them into weapons of vengeance. You know in your heart that what you do is not evil. Just as you know what is right and what is wrong. Always remember the line you walk and never falter from it."

            Sorrow did brush across her heart as he said those words. A wavering smile touched her lips as she nodded once. "I remember. It was one of the last pieces of advice she gave before...her final hunt claimed her life."

            Tyrael stepped forward. Tensing, Killa caught a sharp breath as her eyes narrowed. With an ageless grace further slowed by heavy plate and multiple lifetimes of knowing one's own strength delivered, the ex-angel drew the hunter into a hug. The metal was unforgiving but warm. And until she touched it, she had been unaware that she was chilled through from the desert night.

            "My oath, Shandra. Just between us."

            His words were the key that unlocked the last gates to the flood. Breaking into tears that she had refused to shed for over ten years, Killa crumpled into Tyrael's embrace and let the deluge of denied doubts, uncertainties, and relief go. Over the plated shoulder, the sun broke above the horizon like the first brilliant ember of hope to light the world again. And for just a moment, light danced and rippled over Tyrael's armor like ethereal wings as his face was cast into a featureless shadow.


	13. Eirena Emerges

_To become a hunter of demons, you must transform your fear into your hate. Bury all pain and sorrow deep within to fuel the flames of your wrath. Focus your rage upon the source of your loss and pain. Always remember what they did, what they do. Never waver, never doubt, never hesitate. Never show them mercy, for you will never receive it. Turn their own powers against them. Embrace your darkness, discipline your mind and heart to bind it to your will, bend it to your control._

_Master your emotions and clear your mind of all but your ultimate goal. Do not expect life. Do not hope for peace. The path of the demon hunter is one borne of death, traveled with death, and ended by death. You will never be able to return to your old life, even should you survive. Once you embrace your hatred, your world will be forever darkened by their mark. The only comfort you can hope for is to take them out with you when your hunt is ended at last._

_These words and many others like them have been my law for years. As a child, I should not have understood the meaning they conveyed. But I did. The child I once was...died that day alongside my family. What survived was precisely what this path required. I understood what my first mentor was telling me. I never forgot her words. And when her final hunt claimed her, they were branded forever into my soul._

_I had a total of three mentors as I grew, and thus far, I have outlived them all. The odds are hardly in my favor these days. Not only am I approaching my thirty-third year in this world, but I am becoming known amongst the demons. While they have yet to know my name, they know of me and they know I hunt them. No, the odds are assuredly against me. After all, it is rare to encounter one of us that has lived past thirty let alone reaching forty. The handful that have are now our instructors and teachers._

_None of us has ever returned to the life we once had. That was the one thing I did not understand when so young and so new to the sect. I had the false hope that some day, after I avenged my family, maybe I could go back and live life the way it should be. Four years of training and hunting finally removed that hope from me. I found that in embracing my hatred, I gained a lust for killing demons._

_Lust, most religious sorts tell us, is one of the gravest of sins. Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, pride. The seven gravest of sins...although I cannot remember which priest said so. I must have been too young to remember such. Odd that I just now realized I have not set foot within a church or cathedral since I was that innocent young girl some twenty score years ago. I wonder what that priest would have made of the fact my power comes from wrath of the vengeful sort._

_Lust. That's the sin currently on my mind though. Kormac, that damned fool, asked me to purify him. While I'm well aware it's considered a great honor for only the most noteworthy amongst his order...I am not of his order. Still, his fear and failure to overcome it has been the core of what has been eating away at him the past week. How could I not agree to help him recover from that? He is a good man and a worthy warrior. The problem is...I am clearly not as pure a soul as he thinks me to be._

_I lust now. And it was so unexpected that it destroyed my balance. I lost myself in chaos. And none of my mentors ever prepared me for that possibility beyond mentioning that once it had begun, the cycle would destroy me from within. I believe I'd thought they meant I would become what I hunted. Later, that seemed silly. Now...I'm not so certain. Nephalem are part angel and part demon. Although Tyrael's words assured me that no mortal could become one or the other because of that balance...I find I cannot let the thought go._

_I do not fear that I may become a demon, but I am very concerned that I will become worse. The years have shown and reminded me how twisted and broken humans can become. While they may not become demons...some shades of gray are so dark it's next to impossible to tell the difference between gray and black. I will admit that I am afraid of becoming the very thing I hunt. And I have no clue how to turn that fear into hatred. And no one to instruct or guide me in the process._

_One thing that speaking with Tyrael did clarify for me--even if it was not something that I said aloud...this lust I feel is not random but focused. In aiding Kormac with the whip, I..._

_There is no easy way to put it so I will--can't believe I'm actually writing this down--put it here. His screams excited me. Now that enough distance is between the experience and this moment, I have enough clarity of mind to better see what happened. Hurting him, causing him to bleed, seeing him bound and at my mercy...hearing him scream for me even if muffled, it was the same thrill and addiction I have for hunting my prey._

_There has not been enough time for me to figure out if I see Kormac as prey or not. I highly doubt it...but...then again... I know I'm still confused. I want to make him scream for me again, I want impossible things, things that the templar will denounce as pure sin. He would never let me do any of them, never want--that's it. That's why I enjoyed it. He wanted to be hurt, that's the addiction right there. But why? Why should it be such a...pull...to hurt someone that wants to be hurt?_

_Maybe...it's just him. I have never worked so closely with someone on a hunt before, and never for so long. There is the chance that the extended companionship has given me something I willingly chose to abandon and cast aside when I became a demon hunter. It may be I've been ignoring my own baser needs for too long. Living day to day with nothing but hatred and discipline to control it...leaves very little time for anything else, including other emotions._

_The caravan is slowing. It must be we are about ready to approach Caldeum._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Despite the heat, Killashandra drew her hood down closer about her face so the shadow fell lower across her lips. The heat truly did not bother her, but the blinding sun against sand did. The city walls blocked most of the wind-tossed sand from being blown through the streets at least. With Leah and Tyrael heading for the sewers to investigate, it left Killa and Kormac to head for a nearby outpost. Lyndon had elected to stay in their small camp above the city where it was slightly cooler--so he claimed.

            The two guards posted at the gate regarded both hunter and templar warily. However, one nodded and motioned to the other. The second turned to pull the bar back and open the gate. The first was studying Kormac intently with recognition for the style of armor the templar wore. It was likely the warrior's presence that made the guards so receptive and helpful in their cooperation and the directions the first gave to Alcarnus. Killa did not mind at all and merely followed him for the moment.

            Without the protection of the walls, they were blasted by the wind-driven sands and cooked by an unforgiving sun. Kormac clearly fared far worse than she did. Sweat was visible on his face and darkening his hair. It also made parts of his garb darker beneath the metal plates. Squinting his eyes against the light and wind, he trudged more than walked. But to his credit he did not complain or say much of anything.

            Her own armor was heavy enough to make her sweat beneath it, but the hood and mask she had fashioned to protect her eyes and face from light and wind served to pull sweat away from her head and let the wind cool her a little. She moved with a far lighter step as well since she was not weighed down by heavy metal. Her eyes were a mix of green and gray in the shadows of her hood as she scanned the area before them.

            It came as a bit of a surprise when they rounded a rise of rock to start into a canyon only to find a strange woman upon their road. The wind itself seemed to push them the last few inches forward into the quiet of the canyon. Killa was already on guard with bow in hand but no arrow was set upon it. She smelled a trap but her senses did not link it to the stranger before them. Not to mention the woman was...one of the strangest she had yet seen.

            For one, she was dressed in scantly little but a purple-pink top which only supported and covered her breasts, and clinging short gold skirt falling over matching purple-pink...well, bottoms. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun against the back of her head and was the same golden white color of the sand. A belt containing pouches, knee-high boots of brown leather, and a staff with a dark green orb at the top were her only accessories.

            "Take heed traveler. Cultists guard these desert roads, and they will slay any who pass,"(1) she said with a thick accent similar to those of the region but far...richer.

            "I've heard. I traveled here to kill them and their leader,"(2) Killa responded with eyes narrowing.

            "Then you must not go alone. I shall accompany you."(3)

            "You hardly look like a guard or one of the Iron Wolves," the hunter commented.

            "That is because I am not," was the reply before the woman turned to move further into the shade of the canyon passage. "There are illusions out there--mirages, to some--but I can see them for what they are: the Coven's foul magic. They will lead you to your death."(4)

            Something was wrong about this encounter but she could not figure out what that was. It would be better to get rid of this strange woman and be on their way. Even if the sense of a trap waiting ahead was not tied to her, she was not exactly something that Killa felt like dealing with at the time.

            "Thanks for the warning, but I know a trap when I see one."(5)

            A sudden sense of her space being invaded made her stop as the woman walked on ahead. Turning her head, Killa looked to where the templar was staring after the stranger.

            "She looks...different than anyone we have seen,"(6) he murmured just loud enough for the hunter to hear. His eyes were riveted on the woman's every motion. "Her skin is as soft and smooth as polished ivory, and her eyes...they...oh."(7)

            Kormac almost snapped his spine straightening when the woman turned to look back. "Why are you two whispering over there?"(8)

            "N-no reason!"(9) he stammered.

            He missed the look that Killa was giving him. Indeed, she was not entirely certain what type of look it was because there was a mix of reactions to his besotted fixation. Glancing at the woman, she looked back to the templar as something...ugly twisted inside. Quickly, she crushed it down and chose a more normal response.

            "Keep your eyes in your head, templar, lest the sun burn them to ash. Oh, and I wouldn't recommend drooling too much more either."

            "What? I--wait--no! That's not--!" he stuttered protests as Killa walked away, leaving him to catch up as she and the stranger moved on along the road. Even with her own still-volatile emotions confusing her, his reaction made her grin behind the cloth resting across her lower face.

            It was fortunate that the heat had made Kormac's skin darker and redder since it concealed his blush well enough. But after time spent near the templar and the scoundrel during one of their "friendly" chats had shown her what his blush looked like. And it was a tiny thing she enjoyed pulling out of the normally unshakable templar.

            Another mile or so through the canyon and their strange leader suddenly stopped. She looked up and down then moved in a circle. Giving her space, the hunter and templar continued around the bend only to stop as well. The road led to a wall of fallen stones. A rock slide had barred the path through the canyon. Growling under her breath, Killa glared at the barricade as her hand tightened on the longbow. She still smelled a trap--but could not figure it out.

            "Be careful... They are very near to us,"(10) the strange woman said as she came up behind them.

            Killa looked at her. "What do you mean? The road is blocked."(11)

            Just as she finished speaking, the sense of magic crackled in the air as sand bubbled. Spinning back around, the hunter took aim at one of several boiling points in the sand. With more speed than she would have thought they could pull off, cultists poured from their hiding places beneath the ground and charged forward to attack.

            "You should never have come. Demons will feast on your bones!"(12) one of the cultists--a summoner by the fashion and color of his robes--yelled as he began to cast a spell she knew was to bring a demon beast forth to do his bidding.

            An arrow through his throat silenced him and sent him crashing backward with the half-formed demon being yanked atop him from the spell. He had no ability to scream as the twisted thing's jaws opened and closed down on his head, crushing his skull and severing bone and tendon. As the spell was broken, the demon vanished back into the hell-pit it was summoned from along with the head and one shoulder of the cultist that lost control of it.

            "One day, but not today!" she spat with fierce pleasure before focusing on her next target.

            "I've missed killing these cultist scum. Come on then!"(13) Kormac cried as he charged into battle, crashing into the cultists that emerged behind the hunter's back and sending them flying as his shield struck them.

            The strange woman was casting bolts of magic around. Each time one touched a cultist or demon, it burst into flame or crackled as arcs of lightning electrocuted the target. The ambush ended as suddenly as it had begun but with far more blood than the cultists had likely intended given it all belonged to their corpses. It meant the hunter's attention returned to their newest companion.

            "How did you know about the ambush?(14)

            The woman was cool and composed, somehow almost regal when she responded. "I am an enchantress; the ways of magic and illusion are familiar to me. My name is Eirena."(15)

            That sick, dark thing was again twisting, only it was different somehow and Killa was very careful to keep it concealed and her eyes cool and unreadable. "My thanks, Eirena. It seems you are doing a lot more than saving travelers, though."(15)

            Kormac appeared to miss the look that Killa gave him. So, too, did Eirena since she was smiling shyly at the templar.

            "Well... I am also looking for someone. But, here, let me clear the way for you."(16) She turned and brought her staff up to begin making gestures in the direction of the fallen stones.

            Muscle twitched along the hunter's jaw as she fought a war within herself once more. It could not prevent her eyes from narrowing as she watched Kormac continue to stare with a stupid, besotted look upon his face. The longer she watched, the more that vicious thing began to eat at her insides. Keeping silent, Killa bowed her head and drew the hood a little closer about her face.

            Neither of the two noticed the unusual flash of light come from the pale shadows within the cloth. Kormac was too busy offering Eirena one hand to help her step over some rocks that proved not all the barrier had been an illusion. Following slowly, the hunter finally pegged the emotion down with a name. Jealousy. Taking slow, deep breaths, she moved to catch up--because there was the sound of another skirmish ahead. And at that moment, all that Killa wanted was blood.


	14. Building Tension

            Slaughtering cultists was not slaking her thirst for blood. If anything, their weak attempts to attack or hold the three of them off were pathetic. Never before had Killashandra felt anything like the purity of focus and the raw power of such rage and hatred. As the enchantress led them on the illusion-hidden trails from one cultist lair to the other, it was more difficult to restrain her temper than it was to kill the array of demons and creatures that got in her way.

            Three days of scorching hot desert sands, ambushes, random attacks, and hunting. Three days of killing and avenging the fallen villagers and tortured coven prisoners. Three days of silently enduring Kormac's besotted eyes locked on Eirena's shy smiles and cute gestures. Three days...and no amount of blood or death was sating the hunter's burning hatred. So by the time they finally found Maghda--all hell was ready to break loose within the hunter.

            Killa left it up to the templar and the enchantress to deal with the coven members aiding the witch. She took Maghda on alone. A lethal game of cat and mouse ensued as the hunter and witch chased one another about the structures of the witch's chosen lair. Only when they were out of sight and immediate sound of the other two did the hunter unleash the dark rage and hatred that had been festering and poisoning her heart for the past three days.

            Maghda never understood what hit her in the end. But Killa kept her word to Leah and all those that the coven had harmed. She made the witch pay...and it was far from an easy death. By the time that Kormac and Eirena finished the remaining coven members off and found her, little was left of the witch but the shattered remains of a bloody skeleton and the shredded wings that had granted her flight.

            Nothing was said about the unusually gruesome and brutal sight. Patching up their injuries and collecting their things, the three journeyed back to Caldeum and the rest of their party. Killa claimed only a single trophy by taking the shredded wings with her. Kormac balked at that but finally chose to ignore it given he was not a hunter and did not understand. She was not about to educate him on that either...nor reveal the true reason she chose to claim a trophy when she never had from any of her previous kills.

            Upon their return to the city, Killa wasted very little time in leading them through it to the camp the caravan had made upon learning the city itself was closed to everyone. At the camp, while Kormac shyly and clumsily showed Eirena around, the hunter made a line straight for Haedrig. The smith was one of those that elected to follow and the caravan had even given him a wagon to help move his forge since they were able to use his skills as well.

            He was the one she gave the torn wings to as well as a few books she had obtained. Once Kormac had seen those tomes were not of his Order, he had no problem letting the women do what they wanted with them. A couple she did not show to either him or the enchantress because she recognized just what type of weapons they gave instructions to making. Neither of her companions would understand her desire for them.

            With Haedrig almost immediately getting lost in the books to learn something new, the hunter picked up the arrows he made to replace those which were completely irretrievable and refilled her quivers. A glance deeper into the wagon he carried his things in revealed a glimmer of pale gold that looked oddly curvaceous for a male. She was far from curious about it though and left after finishing her task.

            That was when she sought out Tyrael. One of many things that Maghda had said before she was finally put to death had alarmed the hunter. And since her return to the camp, she had seen everyone except Leah. Given that the witch had used information to distract them--but had actually not fed them full lies, Killa did not doubt her attempts at bravado were genuine...


	15. Other Prospects

            Making her way from the wagon-based forge Haedrig had made, Killashandra's sharp eyes swept the open camp for any sign of her actual quarry. She purposely ignored Kormac and Eirena as the templar introduced the enchantress to a couple of the other people in the caravan. There was no sign of Leah's ginger red hair anywhere. That sense of power and light drew her toward Tyrael since she had no reason to ignore that. The ex-angel seemed to be expecting her since he was walking toward her from the main overlook.

            "Before I killed her, Maghda told me that the Imperial Guard had captured Leah," she was saying even before she came to a stop. "I saw these guards at the Khasim Outpost. They are the serpent demons of Belial, disguised as men."(1)

            Tyrael's expression of greeting became one of concern before hardening into the calculating face of a military commander. It was refreshing that at least he had not changed. Shaking that thought off, the hunter focused on what he had to say.

            "Then they must be holding the emperor against his will!" Tyrael paused and released a heavy sigh as his voice lowered. "I tremble to think what Belial might do with Leah and her growing power. The only chance we have to rescue Leah is to wrest the emperor from the grasp of the Imperial Guard."(2)

            Now it was Killa's turn to think. Glancing over the man-made part of the wall placed to prevent the unwary from falling to their death, she studied Caldeum. A brief dot of red in the distance made her remember their current allies--given they had freed several groups of Iron Wolves while hunting the Coven.

            "Asheara, the Iron Wolves' captain, may be willing to help us. I will speak with her."(3)

            "There are many ways to open a door," came another voice with a charming accent and smoothness that was hard to mistake. Lyndon had apparently been listening and now approached them. "I happen to know most of them."(4)

            Regarding the scoundrel, she considered. He had also benefited from Haedrig's work although he chose links of mail over leather that was bound down to raise less noise when he moved. Each link was stitched into place so it would not chime or clink. There was a bow on his back with a quiver, both appearing to be worn but the weapon had the appearance of power given her knowledge of them.

            "He may be of use in rescuing Leah, if you can prevent him from speaking," Tyrael offered thoughtfully.

            "Not all keys are mere trinkets, my fallen friend. There are many doors that have opened for my silver tongue and dashing figure that no other could open!"

            Ignoring his banter, the hunter was still thinking it over. But she was also considering another purpose the scoundrel may serve.

            "Are we ready to go?" a familiar voice came and made her eyes narrow slightly beneath her hood. She turned her head to see Kormac approaching.

            "We are, yes. But this time, I need Lyndon."

            "What?"

            "We need to steal Leah from the Imperial Guard. That calls for the skills of a thief, not a warrior."

            Lyndon looked affronted. "I was caught stealing once!"(5)

            Neither of the two seemed to take notice and Tyrael was merely looking on.

            "But...how can you trust him? Will he be able to guard your back or will he run the moment the odds are against you?"

            "One thing about a dishonest man, you can always trust them to be dishonest. And I'm certain he knows that if he tries it, I'll kill him."

            Her temper was slipping and she knew it. It burned hazardously close to exploding after the past few days and it seemed to be further fueled in Kormac's protests. Then she caught a glimpse of familiar pinkish-purple and her cunning mind grabbed a weapon before she was even aware of speaking.

            "Besides, I'm sure the enchantress has not found a place to sleep yet." There was no venom in her voice but it burned in her throat. "Would you rather Lyndon help her with that?"

            Kormac responded as she expected. Bristling, the templar immediately set a glare on the scoundrel as his hand fell to the sword at his side. "I'll see to our newest friend's comfort."

            There was something in that--and the way she had phrased her own little barb--that stung, and she knew it was her own fault since the templar was utterly clueless as to the byplay. It achieved her ends so she let it rest. One hand moved to grab Lyndon by his arm as she nodded to Tyrael and almost dragged the surprised scoundrel toward the path to Caldeum. She released him after a few steps, certain he would follow. He did...oddly quiet for once.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            It came as no real surprises that the meeting with the emperor had not gone as planned. What was starting to make the hunter a little concerned was the ease with which the serpent guards fell before her. Lyndon was a fair shot to be certain and once Leah had been freed and given a bow, she had proven her worth as well. But Killa's sharp mind had pegged that she killed five to every one they killed. Never had she been that good.

            Her focus remained on the fight however. Asheara did not fight alongside them until the illusions fell away from the guards. Even then she was clearly conflicted between killing the demons and helping them against the emperor. The fact they wanted to flee did give her an out as she helped to lead them back to the gates. Before they reached them, Leah found an entrance to the sewers and they slipped away. It would give the captain another out and keep her from following them further.

            Although the sewers were rank in the desert heat, the water within them--well, even the water was warm and slimy from all the rot and other less pleasant things. Killa merely fixed the lower part of her hood more securely about her face and Leah made herself a mask as well. Lyndon seemed oddly unaffected. And with the wizard's enchanted globe, they could see their way clearly to avoid any pitfalls.

            Once they were in the sewers, Leah almost bubbled about the fact she had found her mother, and that she was alive. Killa was used to one task being turned into another. And as it was clear the girl would not let the matter go, she followed her to make certain she remained safe and out of the hands of the demons above. Without the need to focus on battle however, she found her thoughts wandering. At least, until she noticed something about the scoundrel moving a little behind her.

            "Why are you so cheerful?"(6) she asked.

            "What can I say? A scoundrel in a sewer is like a scavenger in its den!"(7) he replied with a grin. "That and I'm in the company of two lovely--and lethal--ladies without anyone else around. Who wouldn't be cheerful?"

            Killa shook her head...and felt a smile touch her cloth-covered lips. "I suppose that might make some happy."

            "Besides," he said as he drew up to walk beside her more, keeping an eye on side passages. "I was terribly bored in the camp. The people there were almost as dull as those in Tristram. Honestly, I was about ready to sneak along after you just for some excitement!"

            It made the hunter stop in her tracks for a moment. Looking at Lyndon, she tilted her head to one side. The wizard-light circled back toward them since it was bound to Killa. It permitted her to take a true, close look at the scoundrel before her. He was rough about the edges, to put it simply, but his mustache was very neatly groomed and cleaned. The shaven parts bore a hint of stubble visible. While sun and weather hand placed lines upon his face, he was still quite handsome.

            Since the light was pale white, she could see his eyes clearly. They were sharp and a rich, earthy brown with small flecks of gold in them. One eye had a slight squint to it but that was hardly derailing. It was only then that she really took in the fact his brown hair was longer and tied back at the nape of the neck. If she were to guess at age, he might be a few years older than her or younger, it was difficult to say.

            "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

            Realizing she had been staring for a few moments longer than intended, she only shook her head and moved on after Leah. "No, just wondering if you were serious or joking."

            "Oh, very serious, that I assure you."

            Another shake of her head and she continued to smile behind the mask.

            "Adria should be up here!"(8) Leah called back.

            "This is the first time a girl's ever asked me to meet her mother!"(9) Lyndon declared.

            Killa found herself rolling her eyes as they hurried to catch up. Leah was already climbing up a rusty, filthy ladder toward light coming through a bent and pitted metal grate above. Motioning toward the ladder, she signaled the scoundrel to go next as she turned to keep an eye on the passage they had just traveled. Only when there was a soft sound from above did she turn, sling her bow over her shoulder, recall the light to tuck the stone into her belt, and follow them both.

            Near the top, she saw Lyndon crouched on one knee. He extended his hand to her and caught her arm to help boost her up from the hole swiftly. The three of them had emerged in shadows behind some fallen rubble. Even without needing to see around it, Killa smelled the demon-spawn spoor. There was a strange crackling and hissing sound covering the noise they made as they moved

            A voice echoing with power erupted in the chamber. "Tell us about the Black Soulstone! We know of the three that the Horadrim used to trap the Prime Evils... What is the purpose of this one?"(10)

            Killa drew her bow free and notched the first arrow as a woman's voice answered, strained by pain and effort. "Your master, Belial, has good reason to fear it!"(11)

            Suddenly, Leah broke from their cover to race recklessly toward the group of serpent demons surrounding the woman in question. "Leave her alone!"(12)

            "Leah!" Killa shouted and cursed the stupidity of the girl. Leaping over the barricade that had hidden them, she began firing immediately at the closest demon. Lyndon's bolts flew past her to strike a second but she was already focusing on a third.

            The largest serpent demon however had already struck Leah to send the girl flying. He apparently picked the hunter to be the greatest threat as he ignored Lyndon to charge toward Killa. A fierce grin lit her face--visible as the cloth had fallen about her neck from the sudden actions--as she turned all of her rage and hatred on the torturer.

            It was over all too soon. Even these demons were pathetic wastes of cursed flesh. Disappointment filled her as she gave the largest corpse a disgruntled kick. Leah had picked herself up and was helping the woman up as Lyndon approached Killa. As the two rejoined the girl, it was made clear this was indeed the witch Adria. The problem was, something here was wrong. There was something about this Adria that...made the hunter's senses uneasy.

            While the two women spoke with all the appearance of getting reacquainted, Killa heard something from the opening they came through. Reminding the two it was no place to talk resulted in Adria opening a magical portal to the location Leah quickly described. Not one to trust easily, it was with reservation that the hunter followed the others through to the camp. Their sudden arrival caused quite a stir amongst the folk there as well.

            She stayed back to listen as Adria and Leah spoke. Tyrael and Lyndon were doing the same. When talk about retrieving a head to gain the aid of a traitor to the Horadrim came, she clenched her jaw and remained quiet for the time. Considering, she found herself releasing a sigh. It seemed that her primary quest of Belial's destruction was going to be altered for this new tool. At least it seemed that Tyrael was keeping an intent eye on Adria as well.

            As a map was taken out and the location of Zoltun Kulle's head was plotted and marked, Killa found her attention moving around the camp. She saw the templar's armor and gear resting beside a familiar staff and pack. Neither of the two were present. She was not certain whether it was disappointment, relief, or apprehension she felt about that. Either way, she cast it aside to focus her attention on the marked location.

            "Lyndon and I will see if we can find this head. You two have much to catch up on, so why don't you stay here in camp?" she asked.

            Leah's face lit up. Adria's was also pleased but veiled somehow. With the mother and daughter distracted by one another, Killa gave Tyrael a look. Those wise golden eyes were too knowing, despite his own uncertainty. He nodded once in return and stepped forward to offer the two women some food and water like any gracious host. With them occupied, Killa headed for the road to Caldeum once more.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Dropping the last few yards to the sewer floor, Killa immediately pulled her bow free and readied it. Moving forward, she let the wizard-light illuminate her way. Behind came a splash. She did not turn.

            "Ugh, what a stench! That's not you, is it? It's certainly not me..."(13) Lyndon said as he shook the excess slimy water off his boots.

            All that the hunter did was cast a look at him over her shoulder as she moved on.

            "I was just joking!" he said as he caught up with her.

            "I know. That's why I didn't shoot you."

            An uneasy laugh came from the scoundrel before he quieted. Belatedly, he drew his own bow and readied an arrow as well. They moved on.

            "Does the smell bother you?"(14) she asked.

            "Not terribly."(15)

            "You're used to it, then?"(16)

            "Never smelled a den of thieves, have you?"(17)

            "Thieves are not my prey, demons are. I've never had to seek out the services of a thief before either. I generally make my own way."

            Lyndon was the one to give her a look this time. "Yes, you do strike me as the capable type. Dark, dangerous, deadly...beautiful."

            Her eyes met his for a moment as he made her recall what had been turning over and over in the back of her mind since she decided to leave the templar behind. Apparently he was truly well versed in reading such things as well. Stepping forward, one of his hands rose. Although she should have pulled away, she remained still as he very slowly drew the cloth down her face and revealed her lips.

            Eyes narrowing, she waited, not certain if she would just permit him such liberty without retaliating. But another part of her really was curious. So she did not move to drive him off. It encouraged him to lean in slowly. His palm cupped her bared cheek so that his thumb could caress the skin over the rise of bone beneath. It was...very pleasant.

            "I mean it, Killa. I know very well you're aware of how I see women. But when I say I find one beautiful, that is pure honesty on my part. The truth is far sweeter than any fib or turn of phrase I could invent," he said in a low voice that was so completely different than his normal tone it made her wonder. And made something tighten in a familiar way.

            "I'm not blind, Lyndon. I know you enjoy women and that there is no lie associated with it. For all the tales you tell and all the schemes you invent, you're a good man beneath it all."

            Now Lyndon paused to stare at her, eyes searching for any deception or deceit. When none could be found, he suddenly seemed far less confident, even shy as he cleared his throat. His hand began to fall away and Killa surprised herself by reaching up to hold it against her cheek. Their eyes met again and the uncertainty in his made that tingle become a touch of hunger--or lust.

            She took the last step, moving closer so there was little room between them save for where her other hand still had her bow positioned as partial barrier, partial habit. Despite the stench and foul surroundings, it hardly deterred either of them. As he leaned closer, his lips parted and a warm breath caressed her face. Her eyes remained locked on his.

            Growing a little impatient, she tilted her head toward his hand and captured his lips for a kiss. It surprised him from the way his body jolted but he hardly remained an emotionless stump. As their lips met, that hunger and frustration rose to turn what was possibly going to be a sweet kiss into something fierce and hungry. That tingling coil within her surged as she moved her hand off his to grip the back of his head and hold him into the kiss as she devoured his mouth.

            It had been too long since she last sated her needs it seemed because he tasted so good. Part of her had expected him to taste of some wine or liquor but there was no trace of that. A faint hint of fruit and herb from whatever he had eaten prior and something utterly male that made her hunger grow. The fact he was responding in kind to her attentions only made her growl with want.

            Lyndon broke back first to gasp for breath. She drew back as well, lips made full and slightly bruised by the ferocity of the kiss. Even though taking such deep breaths made the odor of the sewers fill their senses...she could still taste him and only him. His eyes were a little wide, still caught by surprise. Only, the surprise was for a reason Killa did not grasp. She could not see her own eyes or the fact they were glowing like twin orange embers in the shadows of her hood.

            The moment was broken, when the image of Emperor Hakan II appeared before them to offer aid as well as unlock the strong gates barring their way. Lyndon remained uncharacteristically silent. It did not escape Killa's notice that he seemed able to make himself smaller, withdrawing so that her form would block sight of his at her back.

            While she was not about to trust the boy--emperor or not, it would take magic to conjure an image to interact with someone--he did clear their way. She was not going to refuse that particular aid trust or not. Her senses were again screaming of a trap before her, but not in their current location...just ahead of them somewhere.

            A deeper, darker part of her was snarling like a rabid beast behind the bars of a cage at the interruption. Granted, the sewers were not her choice for such an encounter with the scoundrel. But now that she knew she did find him attractive as more than just a friend and companion, she wanted more. And unlike Kormac, he would not shy away from giving her what she wanted--or what she needed. That spurred her to move faster and get this task done with so she could explore something else entirely...


	16. Oasis

            A whiff of far fresher air led them to yet another ladder with a grate above it. The metal of this ladder was slimier but not nearly half as foul as the rest of the sewers. Climbing up, it took a few moments to get the rusty grate to give and release them into the area above. Clean, cool air embraced her as Killa scanned for any hint of trouble and extended her arm to help Lyndon up as well. They had reached the oasis and night had fallen while they were working through the rank passages.

            "Not so bad out here, is it?"(1) he commented.

            "More pleasant than where we were," she replied.

            Not far from the grate was a waterfall and pool of water. Given the muck and filth they had been wading through and fighting in, Killa had no problem making directly for the clear water. Paying no mind to the fact she was dressed, she waded into the pool and made her way around to the waterfall itself. The liquid was cold and fresh, spilling over her and washing away the gunk in the force of the fall.

            It made her stagger several times and a sudden solid splash almost made her fall. Lyndon's body was suddenly there, solid and steady as he supported her. He too had elected to just wade right in and get the smell off his body and armor. Turning to face him as the water poured down over both of them, Killa was more than aware her hunger had not abated one bit. In fact, the interruption earlier had only fueled it.

            Lyndon was looking into her eyes as well. They were again glowing like embers though she was utterly unaware of it. And although it did alarm him given the things he had seen and heard them talk about, it only gave a bit more thrill to it. The same thrill she was feeling as one hand rose to lightly slide her gloved fingers through his soaked hair and brush back a few of the shorter strands the water had pulled loose.

            His hands were a light weight, one on her shoulder and the other daring to rest against her waist. The hunter was studying him as if he were prey. Although there was the momentary urge to flee, this was the first time she had shown any indication of interest. His curiosity overpowered the sensation and he stayed as her fingers continued to slide over his head slowly, toying with the water-swept hair.

            "Lyndon, I want to be clear. This is not about love."

            A devilish spark entered his eyes as he grinned in that roguish way. "This...is going to be interesting, isn't it?"

            "I will not be gentle if that is what you mean," she stated flat out.

            Considering her words, his brown eyes traced down along her armored form. Haedrig's work was improving every piece he made. The current armor followed her lines smoothly enough to let him know she was no featureless blob of indeterminate gender. But enough was still covered and only hinted at to leave her a mystery. He wanted to know more, just as she did if her current look was any hint. And he knew how to read women.

            "As long as I survive and you don't break me, I don't think I'll complain much."

            Stepping closer, the hunter's free hand slid up, moving over his stomach up his chest. It managed to leave a trail of heat behind although they were under cold water. When her hand closed around his throat and squeezed, he shuddered at the clear promise of strength there. Her voice was a low murmur near his ear, almost lost beneath the sound of falling water.

            "No strings save one. If I ever learn you are being loose-tongued about this...I will hunt you down. And I promise that your death will not be clean."

            The black promise--he knew it was no idle threat--made him shudder unexpectedly. Mouth suddenly dry, he licked his lips and swallowed. The pressure of her hand made it a little uncomfortable but it was not tight enough to restrict the motion.

            "We've an accord then..." he managed.

            It was the last thing she permitted him to say. Her hand released his throat only for the other to grip a fistful of his bound hair and jerk him to meet her kiss. Just as before she claimed and devoured his mouth with that burning hunger. He moaned as her other hand found his belt and gave a vicious yank. Then his hands returned to life and fell upon her to begin yanking and jerking at her armor.

            Even as the first pieces of her armor were tossed toward the bank, Lyndon was turning with her in his arms to make their blind way to the shore. Though the water was pleasant, it was really pretty cold even when fully dressed. Killa had no qualms as she managed to get his belt off and give it a fling while her tongue battled his. Her hand tightened on his hair momentarily to hold him still and break the kiss for a fast breath.

            Then both of her hands found his vest. She grabbed it, ignoring the fastenings, and yanked. Cloth pulled and the leather was torn open under the strength of her attack to leave his chest bare for the aggressive exploration of her hands. The wet leather of her gloves slid up over his chest to his shoulders, causing the armor there to slip and fall, weight dragging the rest of his tunic back and down.

            His heel hit a stone hidden beneath the water and he stumbled, falling backward. He winced as his back hit the grassy bank and one shoulder piece that had managed to get caught beneath him. Killa showed no sign of noticing or caring as she landed on top of him, immediately straddling his hips. Her glowing eyes devoured him as she made short work of his other adornments, casting them aside without a care where they flew.

            Just as he reached up to help get rid of the harder parts of her own armor, she stripped her gloves and the bracers off to fling so her bare hands could fall back to his chest and explore. Lyndon groaned as her sharp fingernails traced along scars and scraped sharply against his cold-hardened nipples to send fire racing through his body. Unable to take any more, he forgot the delicacy of unfastening straps and returned the favor by breaking them to rip away the hard chest piece and grab her shirt.

            Torn away from her own explorations, Killa lifted her arms to assist him in getting rid of her clothes, yanking the hood off along with them. A heavy mass of water-soaked ebon hair spilled down over her shoulders and back, clinging to her face. She was bare from the waist up save for the simple black bra worn for support. Lyndon did not rip that off, his hands going to cup cloth-bound breasts and squeeze them. Each one filled each hand perfectly with the hard points of her nipples pressing against his palms.

            Mouth opening to pant, Killa moaned as he plucked and squeezed sensitive nipples between his thumb and palm. Her hips rocked, grinding the harder pressure of the armor down against his groin. Lyndon arched, hips bucking up to meet her with a moan to match hers. That tight, dark tingle was growing into a pulsing, throbbing sensation within her as she reached up to slide her fingers through his hair and break the leather binding it.

            Lifting himself up, Lyndon pulled her bra down, fastening his mouth over one cold-hardened nipple to bite lightly and suck hard. It drew a strange sound from her that was somehow a growl and moan in one. A hand grabbed the back of his head and trapped him there as his tongue toyed with the aroused peak. The hunter was moving though, lifting herself up with her thighs so her other hand slid between them to begin viciously yanking the fastenings of his pants.

            Obliging, Lyndon lifted his hips as he felt the tight grip of the garment slacken. Shoving his pants down, Killa shifted her weight, using armor-clad thighs to push them further away. The metal was sharp and almost painful against his legs. Breaking back to gasp, the scoundrel shifted, pressing his body up against hers as he reached back to fight with getting his boots and pants off. Taking the moment for what it was, she also took to the frenzy of getting her remaining armor dispatched as well.

            Even before he had managed to get his other boot off, she was on him again. It surprised him how fast she was, causing him to fall backward as she again pinned him to the ground. He had not yet managed to get his tunic fully off and the new position trapped his arms against his sides. Killa slid herself down along his body, stomach caressing his cock as she reached up to grab the leather jacket. Pulling down sharply, he first thought she was going to help him get rid of the last article.

            Instead, he felt her twist the tunic around his lower arms and tighten it, effectively binding his arms behind his back. Stunned and suddenly gripped by alarm, he stared up at her as she moved over him once more. Her thighs gripped his waist, knees pressing his arms against his body, his stomach cushioning her slight weight as she knelt there. Prisoner now, he could only watch as Killa drew her hands up along her own body to grasp her bra and unfasten the ties between her breasts.

            Rolling her shoulders in a display far slower than her actions up to that point, she teased him as she let it slide off to fall across his bared thighs. Lifting herself up without easing her grip on his sides, she hooked her thumbs beneath the matching black undergarment and slid it down. She was not pale in any form, her skin toughened by sun and hard fighting, but under the oasis moon it seemed to glow against the pitch black of her tangled hair.

            Lyndon had bedded many women--at least half without the comfort of said bed. Looking up at the one poised above him, he found himself entranced by the differences. Women were meant to be curvy, soft, beautiful. They were to be cared for with gentle touches and tender caresses. Sounds they made were breathy and soft with pleasing cries as they were fondled and stroked toward their completion. They were meant to be cuddled and cajoled until asleep so he could flee.

            The hunter's body possessed the curves and beauty of women but there was nothing soft about her. Her body was hard and toned with muscle. There were solid lines and plays of shadow across a muscled abdomen and the curves of her ribs. Her arms and thighs were not smooth but held the same presence of muscle and power. Her breasts were soft but almost too firm, hinting that the gravity-defying nature without need of the bra was from that same hard work and fighting. Her hips had the curve of softness but far, far less than the typical maidens he chased.

            Had he ever met her prior to his last run-in with the thieves' guild, he probably would never have given her a second glance--unless he was watching out for bounty hunters. She was a wolf compared to lovely lambs. And as she rose to slide her garment off, he found that he wanted to see just how wild this wolf could be. Especially when, to his surprise, he saw the dark hair over her mound was trimmed neat and short.

            Killa sank back down over him, barely brushing the softer, water-beaded flesh along the length of his cock. Panting, breasts swaying with every rushed breath, she gazed down at him. In the moonlight, the normally hazel eyes still held that spark of fire. Now it shimmered a hot gold as she locked gazes with him. His heart skipped a beat at the look and he suddenly felt like a sacrificial lamb before a wolf, a sensation that sent a jolt of fear through him and made his cock throb and jerk against her mound.

            "Killa--"

            She silenced him with another hard kiss. As her mouth all but ravished his, one hand slowly slid down his chest. The sharper edges of her fingernails drew trails of fire in their wake, causing him to twist and arch beneath her touch. The sensation ended against his abdomen before his breath caught and he bucked up into the hand that wrapped around his cock and squeezed. Moaning, Lyndon found his eyes closing without him wishing them to as he thrust into her tight grip.

            When she finally withdrew, he was squirming, writhing against the leather binding his arms as his hands dug into the grass beneath him. Sagging back, he let his head fall as he panted for stolen breath. Only belatedly was he aware that her hand had left his cock. The heat of her body withdrew, causing his eyes to snap open and see what doom was about to befall him. Instead of pulling away, she was crawling forward and higher along his body. Confusion made his brows furrow as he watched.

            One of her hands came to rest at the crown of his head as she placed her knees to either side of his ears. Not entirely certain what she had intended, it struck him a moment before she guided his head up a few inches and lowered herself to brush the dark hair against his lips. Even trimmed, the small patch of hair was soft and silky. It caught on his mustache a few times before he opened his mouth and flicked his tongue across the hot, wet skin. And it made his cock throb when it was not the beaded water he tasted.

            As she sank down to cover his mouth and nose with her sex, her flavor and her scent filled his senses. With those powerful thighs supporting his head, trapping him in place, he had little choice but to do what he suddenly wanted to do anyhow. He pressed his head up and began to taste her, running his tongue between the nether lips and teasing her clit before circling the source of heat burning his lips.

            Moaning, Killa fisted his hair again, arching back and rocking toward his mouth. The scratchy caress of his mustache only made each flick and stroke of his tongue that much more intense. It was almost like scratching an itch that could not be reached. As he thrust his tongue into her, a shudder took her by surprise and muscle clamped down around the invasion. His moan mirrored hers--even if muffled--before he began to thrust faster and harder to devour every trickle of wetness falling into his mouth.

            While thrusting his tongue into the tight folds as deep as he could reach, Lyndon was struggling to try and get his arms free from her bindings. Try as he might, even so distracted, he could not figure out how in the hells she had snared him. He could feel no knots and could not find the seams of the vest and shirt to get any idea on how she had wrapped them. The harder she ground against his face and the more he swallowed, the less he cared about that minor frustration.

            Her thighs covered his ears but he could still hear her moaning and panting. As those slick inner walls began to tremble and convulse around his tongue, he drew his lips back to carefully bite at the sensitive flesh, rolling his tongue over her clit as he caught a needed breath. His reward was her cry and violent shudder as the tingling, burning coil inside her suddenly exploded. Hot, slick, almost sweet liquid spread across his chin and face before he could fasten his mouth against her and drink the rest down. A probing caress of his tongue felt the sensitive flesh trembling and jerking as she recovered.

            Killa pulled away from his attentions with a groan that was more pleasure than pain. The cool night breeze chilled the moisture lingering and made her shiver with another surge of pleasing sensation. Not that she went far. Her glowing eyes found Lyndon's face and the glistening signs of her release darkening and clinging to his skin and mustache. The brown eyes were nearly black from desire as her body slid down along his, painting her wetness across his flesh.

            Bowing her head, she even parted her lips to run her tongue across his chin and taste herself before claiming another kiss from him. Moaning, his eyes closed again as she tasted herself against his unique maleness. Since he was not paying attention, his eyes flew wide in shock when the tip of his painfully hard cock brushed something hot, wet, and pulsing. Her eyes locked onto his even as she nipped and licked his lips, forcing him to pay attention as she began to push back.

            "Wait, Killa!"

            "Shhhh..." she hushed him with another kiss before her teeth found his lower lip and nibbled along his jaw toward his ear. One hand again found his cock and stroked the angry red flesh gently. "It's been a long time, but I'm no maiden, Lyndon."

            His mouth was hanging open as she ground herself against just the head of his cock, squeezing firmly with her hand to hold him still. With her weight pinning him down, she prevented his attempts at thrusting up to meet her from achieving anything. A pained sound escaped him and she drank it in with a quick breath as the hot coil pulsed inside her groin once more.

            "Sometimes, I like a little pain."

            Just as he frowned in confusion, trying to grasp what she said, Killa thrust back. Taking him inside with a sudden motion, she cried out in pained pleasure. His own cry mingled with hers as her hand left him so she could thrust down again, taking the rest of his length into her tight passage. The burning pain of being stretched so suddenly melted into the molten pleasure coursing through her entire body and pulsing with her rapid heartbeat.

            Lyndon's hips were bucking as he struggled against his bonds, against her body, against the tight, clenching pull of her around his cock. His efforts made the hunter moan and tighten further around him, barely managing to prevent her own hips from moving. Even as hot as her own body was, she could feel his thick length stretching her open, hot and hard and pulsing. So sensitive, she was not sure if she was really feeling the faint pulses of wetness from the tip or if it was her imagination. Regardless, it was so good.

            One hand rose to cup the scoundrel's cheek as she recovered herself enough to look at him again. Still open-mouthed, panting, his eyes opened at her touch and turned to look up at her. They were nearly black with need as his tongue darted across his lips like a frightened thing. Her fingernails lightly combed along his mustache, hand stroking the stubble-rasped jaw. Bowing her head, she moved to kiss him. He met her willingly with a hungry need as his hips rose and he moved within her.

            Releasing a muffled sound into his mouth, she shifted to draw herself up and sink back down. The sensation caused her to gasp, breaking the kiss. Instead, she began to trail hungry kisses along his face and throat as she began to ride him. Lyndon struggled against his bindings as he bucked his hips to meet her, craving to touch her, to pull her down and hold her. But there was no give in the bonds and the water had made both cloth and leather cling rather than slide as if it had been dry.

            At last, abandoning any attempts of kissing, Killa sat up and began to move harder and faster as fire and lust coiled in her belly, crackling with every stroke of his cock. Every ridge and vein caressed her and built the flames higher as she braced her hands on his chest. Lyndon cried out as her fingernails dug into his flesh, breaking it and freeing tiny drops of blood. The small pains further excited him and built his need into a feverish pace.

            With her water-heavy hair falling down her back and chest, teasing and caressing her breasts and nipples, the hunter lost any hope of pace, motions becoming frantic as primal need drove her to reach that mind-blowing end. Even Lyndon was more beast than man as he bucked his hips up to drive into her harder and deeper. One thrust made her release a screaming cry as he struck that spot inside that blinded her with the sensation.

            Scoundrel that he was, he aimed to touch that spot again and again. In four more strokes, Killa clamped down around him as she threw her head back and cried out her release. The convulsing grip around him brought Lyndon over an instant later and she cried out again as he exploded against that spot that sent her thrashing and thrusting wildly against him as her body milked him for every last drop, caught in the unending arc of their pleasure.

            Finally, neither had anything left to give and the demon hunter collapsed on top of the scoundrel. Silence fell for several moments save for the softer roar of the waterfall and their heaving breaths. Killa was the first one to recover and slowly push herself up to open gold-lit eyes and stare down at the scoundrel. Lyndon took several more moments before his eyes also made an effort to open and he managed to focus on hers.

            Smiling despite herself, she leaned in to very gently press her lips to his in a kiss that was chaste compared to what they had just done. He returned it, nipping her lower lip sharply in retaliation for the treatment she had given his. Her fingers combed through his hair to straighten out the tangles her grips had made before she pushed herself up. Pulling away, she let him slide free of her body and moved to sit on the grass beside him.

            Neither seemed to have any words to utter. It was a few minutes before Lyndon finally shifted as his shoulders were complaining about the position of his arms.

            "Um, would you mind?" he asked with a rough voice.

            Her answer was to reach under and give his bindings several strong tugs. They loosened suddenly and he found he could pull his arms free. Sitting up slowly, he tugged his tunic out from under him and regarded it. But there was no sign of just how she had used it to tie him up. His puzzled eyes found hers and lingered on the almost gentle curve of her lips as she smiled enigmatically.

            "Just because I don't seek thieves out doesn't mean I don't know how to tie a decent knot."

            "You'll have to teach me that sometime."

            "Sometime," she said as she rose. Even though her legs were shaky from the intense orgasms, she could still walk.

            Lyndon was also a little shaky as he followed her to the pool so they could cleanse themselves. And although he had no clue just what to make of the encounter, he could not seem to keep his eyes from straying toward Killa to watch as she bathed and began collecting her armor to see what could be salvaged. Since he could not think of any actual questions to ask, he did the same.

            Haedrig was going to have harsh words for both of them when they did return to camp to have their armor fixed...


	17. Zoltun Kulle

            After traveling the oasis and finding the ruins, it was a little slower proceeding to search for the head. Given the ruins were falling apart and they had to test their footing most of the way in addition to fighting off the attacks of the magical guardians and demonic infiltrators, it took them a while to find what they were after. The gruesome, but oddly intact, head was put in Lyndon's back for their return.

            The travel drew them both closer, although they did not repeat their waterfall tryst. As far as the hunter was concerned, the only reason for that was due to the lack of another peaceful spot to indulge in lowering their guard. And the scoundrel hardly seemed opposed to her subtle and not-so-subtle hints that Killashandra would not mind a repeat. There simply was no opportunity for it. Then, they were returning to the camp to find Leah attempting to control her power under Adria's incessant pushing.

            It halted when they handed the head over. Lyndon excused himself to go see Haedrig first since his armor would likely take far less time to mend given it was mostly cloth and leather. The latter had been fixed as they traveled. If the women or Tyrael noticed the crude patch-job on the hunter's armor, no one said anything. But likely they were all more concerned about Zoltun Kulle's returned spectre.

            Lyndon approached them near the end of the little confrontation between the sorcerer and Tyrael. When he heard the plan, he actually paled a little and shifted before clearing his throat after the fallen angel reluctantly agreed with Leah and her mother that it was the only chance he could see.

            "You know something's wrong when even I'm getting a bad feeling about it!"(1) the scoundrel declared.

            Killa merely nodded as Leah stuffed the severed head into the hunter's bag. Sighing, she handed the pack to Lyndon.

            "Here. I need to see Haedrig about repairs."

            She felt Tyrael's eyes on her as she headed for the blacksmith but paid it little mind. Haedrig was busy working on something or other and there were a few loose plates lying about. After studying them, she realized he must have taken them from the scoundrel and given him different armor since they were his old ones.

            "Don't tell me, ya busted up your armor as well. Doesn't look like a fall though. Bah! Still reeks of sewers. Gimme that!"

            Since she could not get a word in edgewise, she set to removing the armor and handing it to the smith. Each piece was examined and then stacked on a heavy table. When she was down to just her cloth underclothes, he turned to shamble towards the open end of the wagon.

            "Tis a good thing I'd already started on the new armor. If you give me a few more minutes, it'll be ready for you," he groused.

            In truth, she was rather surprised he did not chew her out further. But she was not going to look that gift-bearer in the eye. He refused to let her take her bow and quivers as well, saying something about needing them to compare. Accepting that, she ventured back into the camp area where Leah was readying her pack with supplies to accompany Killa and Lyndon on their quest to find the sorcerer's blood.

            As she went to where her extra gear and belongings were kept, she glanced over to where Kormac usually slept. He was present this time. In fact, the templar was sitting with an open book propped on one knee, watching her. Their eyes met for a moment. His were just as hard and closed as hers, but he frowned at her. She just turned back to her things and checked for the journal before sorting through her old pack for a change of clothing.

            Taking a fresh shirt and pants in hand--hiding the underthings within--she moved toward the rocks where most took to changing or bathing with a cloth and water skin. It was the only place considered private and thus only used by one at a time. The water skin hung over the outcrop of rock where it had been placed and she took up a cloth to wet it before stripping down. Although the sewers had been rather quiet on the way back, the smell did cling.

            She was just finishing up with her towel-bath when she caught a faint sound. It was a step on bare stone. Pausing, she wrung the rag out and put it aside before reaching for the fresh clothes. Drawing the bottoms on first, she picked up the bra next while focusing on her surroundings. There, a regular, soft breath and a presence. Whoever had approached was on the other side of the rocks and not moving.

            Fastening the bra on, she considered a few options. Leaving her clothing be, she slid into a crouch and moved around to where she could peek around the corner. Even if she had left her weapons with Haedrig, she never went anywhere without something on her person. Even mostly nude, her hands were curled to conceal the daggers gripped in her palms and resting their blades along her inner arms.

            "Please don't kill me," came a soft request.

            Straightening, moving around the rock, she glared at Lyndon. The scoundrel was leaning back against the stone, arms folded across his chest with a cocky attitude presented. His eyes however spoke differently as they slid over her body from head to toe and back. Even she could read the clear appreciation in his gaze as she rolled her eyes and moved back to where she had been cleaning up.

            "What do you want, Lyndon?"

            He came around the edge of the rock wall to peek as she began to pull her leather leggings on. The curves of her rear were something he had only been able to appreciate briefly when they both washed under the falls. Now he enjoyed the view even more.

            "I wanted to know why that dull templar was glaring at you like you stole his favorite holy relic."

            Straightening, she turned as she fastened her pants in place. "How should I know? Unless he is like you and simply doesn't like being left in camp."

            Lyndon's gaze was sharp as he studied her. She just reached for her shirt and pulled it on, shrugging to settle the cloth.

            "Are you going to take him with you this time? It doesn't sound as if we're going to be in the sewers again so, you have no more need of me."

            "Why would I need him? Your skills in battle are more than enough to meet whatever we will be facing in this task. Besides...he'd probably try to destroy Kulle's head along the way."

            The scoundrel was silent for a few moments as she finished dressing. Spilling the small amount of water she had used onto the sands, she put the shallow tub back in place and turned. Lyndon's eyes locked with hers as he worked on something.

            "About what happened..."

            She pressed one finger against his lips. "Let me put it this way. I needed something that you wanted to offer. In the end, it was a deal that worked out for both of us. And it's a deal that can be repeated if you are still offering."

            Blinking, the scoundrel nodded, uncertain. Apparently he was too used to women clinging and mewling over him. He was still having difficulty figuring out this new situation where there was nothing like he had come to expect from the fairer sex. Killa only smiled at his confusion, pleased that she had given him a puzzle to work on that would open the door for her demands in the future.

            He only realized she had moved back to camp when she was nearly there. Pushing away from the rock abruptly, he hurried to catch up. Even before they were back in the sight of the others he had returned to his typical, jovial, infuriating self with the arrogant and cocky swagger as he walked beside her.

            Kormac watched them like a hawk, making no pretense that he was able to read the book he had been working through before they returned. Lyndon was playfully boasting about something or other that Killa tuned out for her part save for when something he said actually struck her as funny. She smiled as she put her things away and turned to head for the smithy. This time she missed the darker look Kormac fixed on her back.

            "Haedrig, we're ready to go," she called into the wagon.

            "Over here, just finishin'!" he called from the smithy.

            Moving around the wagon, she saw him hard at work on some buckles and straps. Giving him a few more minutes, she found her attention falling back to Lyndon.

            "Does adventuring bring you the riches you imagined?"(2)

            "Oh, even more so!"(3) he said with a grin that left little to be mistaken about precisely what he meant.

            Killa rolled her eyes just as Haedrig approached.

            "There! This should do. Let's see how it fits on you now."

            Moving into the forge area, she began to pick up the different pieces, studying them and getting an idea how they fastened and interlocked. It took her a while to get the armor on as she familiarized herself with each piece before securing it. When she stepped back into view however, the two men turned and Lyndon whistled.

            "Haedrig, remind me to never piss this lady off."

            Killa only scrunched up her nose. She could not complain at the workmanship, the armor was not that heavy and she could still move perfectly. But he had made it white. Hardened leather made up the bodice with bits of metal here and there for protection and support so her figure was a little more noticeable. He had made the bracers and shoulders solid metal and enhanced the shield for her bow-arm so it was fully protected when extended. The boots had a little bit of heel but not enough she would be breaking her ankles.

            "It's not my best work, that's still ta come. But it was ready for replacin' your old armor since it was getting a little battered and worn. Oh, and I restrung the bow and refilled the arrows. I'll have the weapon you want done soon, a few more weeks likely on it."

            "Thank you, this should serve me quite well."

            The blacksmith waved off her thanks in a gruff manner she knew was his way of dealing with appreciation. Taking her old bow up, she tested the tautness of the new string before shouldering it and looking at Lyndon. He had a few new pieces of armor as well but nothing that different than what he usually wore. He backed out of her way and presented her with a flourished bow.

            "Shall we go and hunt further fortunes, milady?" he grinned.

            Despite her discomfort at wearing such a bright color, she smiled at his manner and moved past him. He was rewarded for his teasing with a light smack to the top of his head before he could straighten.

            Leah was ready and waiting as they approached. In fact, she looked more than eager to be off from the way she was fidgeting. Before they could say anything though, another person approached. Kormac looked at the new armor but said nothing. First he looked to Leah as if he might say something, changed his mind, and looked back to Killa.

            "Allow me to accompany you. I will refrain from making statements about my faith this time."(4) At her sharp look, he cleared his throat and amended, "All right, well...fewer statements.(5)

            "I've already made arrangements with Lyndon. He is prepared to go," she replied.

            Before Kormac could say anything, Leah spoke up. "Actually, I might be able to use his help. And if things go as badly as Lyndon suspects, it wouldn't hurt to have someone able to heal us along."

            "I, too, wish to travel with you. I was meant to aid you and I cannot do it from this camp," came the voice that the hunter barely restrained the urge to twitch upon hearing. Sure enough, the enchantress came to stand beside Kormac.

            Jaw clenching, Killa took a deep breath to focus on calming that rising, gnawing jealousy. The only one that saw the sudden flare of fire in her eyes was Lyndon--because he was looking for it. The hood obscured her gaze from the rest before they saw it.

            "Well, why not?" he announced loudly. "It's better to be safe than dead. And if our dull templar friend can keep his ramblings of faith to a minimum, we should all be awake to face whatever attacks us!"

            It earned him a glower from Killa and an incredulous look from Kormac. Seeing nothing wrong, Eirena smiled excitedly as Leah nodded. "It's settled then, come on!"

            Grinding her teeth together, the hunter remained silent as she shouldered her own pack and followed the lot of them from the camp as Adria opened another portal to speed them on their way to the oasis. The witch was still sending the hunter an unpleasant vibe, but Tyrael was ever present, watching them intently with the look only a battle-tried soldier could possess. She missed the calculating look Lyndon gave her as they passed through the portal.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The oasis was quiet since it was still night. No further demonic intrusions had come to the land she and Lyndon had cleared a few hours before so their path was unobstructed. As Kormac, Eirena and Leah moved ahead with Lyndon pointing the way they could go from the marked map, Killa hung back a bit to work on clearing her mind and maintaining her balance. Up until a few moments ago, it had not been a problem.

            "You're an interesting one, aren't you?" came a deep, scratchy voice. She recognized the sound as Kulle's voice. "I wonder if your friends know what you truly are..."(6)

            Glancing to her side where the sandy ghost had materialized, she frowned at him. "What are you babbling about?"(7)

            "Oh, all will be revealed...in time,"(8) he said before vanishing in a swirl of sand with a dark laugh.

            Shaking her head, she brushed the incident off as just another distraction. Kormac had snatched the map from Lyndon and Leah had taken it from the templar to look at so they were certain they were going the right way. Noticing how the girl was holding the map, Killa sighed and moved forward to reach out and give it a tug. Indeed, there was a long tear straight through the path she had marked.

            Lyndon reached out to see if he could possibly help fix it while the other three waited. Killa tugged the wizard-light free and held it up so they could see what they were doing.

            "Eirena, are there any men who follow the Prophet?"(9) Kormac asked.

            The enchantress looked surprised. "There are not. Do you wish to join us?"(10)

            "I am sworn to my order,"(11) he said simply.

            "I am certain that my fair sisters would enjoy your company."(12)

            Killa looked up to see Kormac's mouth fall open. He snapped it shut as red suddenly infused his face and he began to murmur, "My faith is my shield. My faith is my shield. My faith is my shield."(13)

            Eyes narrowing, she looked back to the map as she choked back a growl. That twisted jealousy was tangling with her hatred and becoming a very dangerous black cocktail. It was strong enough to warrant intense focus. She did not see Lyndon watching her as she applied a few careful stitches to the paper to bind it together.

            "What ails you, templar?"(14) Eirena asked in concern, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm. Killa did not look up again as muscle twitched along her jaw and her breathing grew a little terse.

            "Are there any women in your order, Kormac?"(15) Leah suddenly asked the furiously blushing, muttering man.

            "Well, no."(16)

            "Shouldn't the templar welcome anyone who wishes to fight evil?" the girl persisted, fighting to hide her smile at Kormac's predicament.

            "That is a fascinating idea. I will mention it to the leaders,"(16) he muttered and quickly moved on, pulling away from a confused Eirena.

            Finished with the map, having fixed it as best as they could with what little was on hand, Killa offered it to Leah. The redhead took it as the wizard-light rose to hover overhead so she could read it.

            "This way."

            They started off again, after Kormac turned back around to go the same direction they headed. Eirena was smiling, clearly amused. Leah was watching the map and the two. Killa and Lyndon followed silently. Mainly because the hunter was still working on clearing her mind for better balance. She kept her eyes moving to scan for trouble.

            After a short distance they came to a small waterfall with a shallow pool. When he saw that the hunter was so preoccupied, the scoundrel suddenly spoke up with practiced fondness.

            "Ah, I knew a woman from this oasis once."(17)

            Blinking, Killa lifted her head to look at him then at the waterfall. Recognition flickered through her eyes as the glowing embers faded down.

            "What was she like?"(18) she asked.

            Lyndon smiled at her with genuine warmth and something deeper as he waved one hand in a manner that suggested his words meant little. "Very good at quenching my thirst."(19)

            Killa found herself smiling despite her jealousy and temper. Suddenly, it did not seem that important. Although she did roll her eyes at Lyndon. Once more, she missed the look that Kormac sent her way. But Leah had also looked up and heard what the scoundrel was saying. She also saw a few things passing between the two that she wondered about. That wonder grew when the templar almost ran into her as he stormed past.

            Something was going on with her friends, and she had no clue what. Frowning, she decided to focus on the map and get this task over with. Eirena did not seem phased to have the templar walk with her as they continued. Lyndon fell in beside Killa once more and began spinning a tale of one of his adventures just to pass the time and distract her. Now he had a grasp on just what was going on between Killa and Kormac. Discretion was his choice until they could speak privately.


	18. Twisted Offerings

            With the four of them along with Leah, it was no real trouble at all to get through the obstacles they faced. At the border of the desert however, Leah announced she had to return to the camp to work on the spell to revive Kulle's body. Eirena offered to return with her and see if she could be of use with the magic. It left Kormac and Lyndon with Killa. At least, briefly. The scoundrel already had no plans on returning to camp.

            Kormac lingered. Standing there as the girls moved off, he cast a look after them then back to Killa. If he hoped she would ask him to stay, he was disappointed. But there was something else. Just as she had noticed it before the purification incident, she could see it again. It was different this time, but he wanted to speak with her. Since Lyndon was standing easily at her side, he would not be able to do so alone.

            Finally, the templar relented. "I will accompany them back to camp so nothing happens. If you have a moment after you finish, I would...ask to speak with you again, Killashandra."

            "We shall see," was her only reply. And it was clearly not what he wanted to hear.

            "Please. It's very important."

            He turned and moved to catch up to the two girls. Watching him go, the hunter frowned in thought. Curiosity did rise. Just what could he want to speak to her about this time? It did not have the same importance as the last time if his behavior was any indication. Snorting, she cast her thoughts aside. There was work to be done and things to kill. Lyndon fell into step with her as they moved on into the desert to search for the two locations where Kulle's blood was hidden.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            "You and I are the same."(1) The damn spectre had the worst timing as she strafed to the left, firing a steady stream of arrows into the skeletal constructs barring her path. "But those others--the fallen angel, the witch--they're using you for their own ends,"(2) he continued as her prey fell and more dust imps took their place. "You choose to be their puppet, yet the power of your birthright could make you a god!"(3)

            Despite her focus being on the battle and avoiding accidentally hitting Lyndon as the scoundrel danced in and out of the fray like a crazy thing, she found she was able to listen and reply without hesitating in her attacks. "I doubt that would end well. Those who seek power are often destroyed by it."(4)

            "There's no need to be snide. Soon enough I'll walk this world again. Then I'll show you what a nephalem can achieve!"(5) he said before vanishing in another swirl of sand.

            Snorting, she shook her head and turned her attention back to where Lyndon was finally finishing off his own opponents. While he still lacked in kills compared to her, he was a formidable scoundrel indeed. It was coming in handy since they were trying to find the mechanisms powered by the sorcerer's blood. Although he had unlocked the doors, he had not disarmed his traps for them.

            Pausing to give a rough count of the arrows she had left, she noticed Lyndon crouched near what appeared to be a chest of some sort. Watching him unlock it and scoop up the gold and a couple items that were inside, she just rolled her eyes.

            "At least you can't be upset that I'm stealing from a man like Kulle,"(6) he said.

            "You have a point,"(7) she answered with a smile.

            Turning to continue up the stairs and along a very long stretch of walkway, they took a little time since it was hard to ambush something on such a height when they could see everything coming toward them. It was then that the scoundrel chose to speak--after clearing his throat.

            "Killa, may I ask you something?"

            One dark brow rose as she turned her head to look at him. "What is it?"

            "Is there...something between you and the templar?"

            That brought her to a halt to turn and look at him. He saw the fire in her eyes once more although it seemed to burn only within their black hearts, leaving a storm of blue, green, and gray circling them.

            "No. I have no time or desire to bother with such things. And even if I did, he has sworn vows of celibacy. If you hadn't figured it out by now, Kormac eats, breathes, and lives for his order."

            "Is that why..." he actually trailed off.

            "Partially. I'm a demon hunter, but I'm also a woman. And when certain needs interfere with my actions, I will fulfill those needs."

            Realizing how harsh that sounded, she sighed and lowered her bow to her side. Stepping closer to the scoundrel, her free hand rose to rest on his shoulder. Their eyes were still locked.

            "I like you, Lyndon. As a friend. That is why I said there was only one string to what we did. I don't want more. Just as you don't want it--as you've said."

            "I'm not saying I do, Killa. And frankly, it's something new I'm enjoying. I was just wondering is all. There's something going on between you two. You were nearly inseparable when you ran into me in Tristram. Now, something's changed since we arrived in Caldeum."

            The concern was touching and genuine. She smiled again before shaking her head then lightly smacking the side of his with her hand.

            "Yes, it has. But that is my problem. It's not affecting my abilities anymore so don't pay any attention to it."

            She moved on. But Lyndon frowned. He had caught her use of "anymore" and it made him wonder. After all, the light in her eyes was something entirely new. And he had also noticed the ease with which she dispatched her prey. It made him a touch nervous. He also found it thrilling. Possibly why he was trying to decide if he really wanted to dig into the issue or let it rest as she had told him to.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            With the machines active, they had opened the door to the shadow realm to seek out Zultan's body. Entering the place however left both extremely disoriented. Killashandra adapted more quickly as her eyes burned with hellish fire. She wanted a fight and hoped the creatures left here to guard would be a worthy challenge. Lyndon moved more as if he were drunk, the extreme heat and other distortions messing up his balance and ability to walk in a straight line.

            Several times she wound up losing sight of him as shadows and wraiths attacked them. Each time she swiftly sent her spider companion to find him and make sure he was not overwhelmed. And every time he did stagger after her once more, she said nothing. The closer they came to Kulle's body however, the more the blowing sand and shadow seemed to echo his voice as he said things she could not quite make out. She ignored the sound instead.

            Another ambush as shadowy fiends swarmed over them. Lyndon cried out in alarm as he was swept away and she caught the sight of several pale phantoms like clouds of sand diving toward the stairs he had tumbled down. As a molten giant of some sort rose from the ground before her, she sent the spider to go aid the scoundrel.

            "You do not trust me. I understand."(8) Kulle's voice was rough against her senses but deep enough that--with the aid of the shadow realm--it seemed to reach something else inside her as she fought. "But we are more alike than you know. We have both tasted what it is to be nephalem."(9)

            Suddenly, Killa was in the clear. The shadows vanished as the giant fell and crumbled to wind-blown embers. Immediately on guard, she tensed and scanned for further threat. Nothing but the mirage-like distortion as the winds that were not winds blew. It only made her alarm grow. Taking a step forward, she started to head for the last spot she had seen Lyndon. Only then did she realize that she could not sense the spider she had conjured.

            Then, the world turned on its side as the blowing wind was all she could hear. Sand rose up around her, spinning and twisting. It did not sting but rather rained against her armor like a noisy caress. A caress made real as it formed a hand against her face. The spectre was suddenly in front of her. And suddenly, he was no longer a spectre. Instead she stared into the eyes of Zultan Kulle as he had been in life.

            Taller than her by a few inches, clad in long robes with armor resting over his shoulders and chest, embracing his waist and hips. A warrior mage like no other she had yet seen. One of his hands caught her bow arm and turned the weapon aside as the other caught her by the hood, fisting it and pulling the hair beneath to hold her still. It was not painful unless she fought. And she did--free hand rising to shove hard against his chest.

            "Join with me, and we can become the masters of this world."(10)

            Before her eyes, unfolding in her mind, she saw the world he spoke of as if she were a hawk soaring so very high above. She saw a vision of men and women flocking to temples that defied all laws of man to worship them both. A world where resistance was crushed and obedience was rewarded richly. A world where she could take anything or have any one she desired without interference.

            And Kulle used the desire she had buried against her as she saw herself in a throne at his side, a familiar figure stripped of armor and freshly marked by the lash, kneeling at her feet. Kormac prostrated himself, licking her armored boots and begging her for more. Killa drew a sharp breath as her eyes widened. But it was not just Kormac. The vision grew to include Lyndon kneeling at her side like a pet, collared and leashed as he rested his head lightly against her gauntleted hand.

            The vision shifted and she saw Eirena straddling Kulle's lap, screaming as he roughly pounded into her abused, bruised, and battered body. With the vision came unspoken promises that all she would have to do is join him and she could have the ones she desired, and watch those she wanted disposed of die long deaths at his hand. All he requested was her loyalty and it could all be hers.

            "Join with me, nephalem..." his voice echoed through her thoughts.

            Panting as that dark hunger rose in full force, she was suddenly tempted. Just the sight of Kormac exactly how she wanted him...of Lyndon adorned in the riches he sought and content at her hand...of the demon hordes turned corpses piled higher than the tallest of towers and higher even than their temples... It was the vision's Eirena screaming that ruined that temptation as Killa cried out in rage.

            A hand struck her cheek. Suddenly the visions were gone and she was seeing those distorting shapes around her again. Her armor was scoured and polished by sand that had gotten through the cracks and gaps to abrade her skin beneath. Blinking, she focused on Lyndon's very concerned face.

            "Killa? I know that I'm a handsome devil, but there's really no need to swoon over me," he said, even if his look betrayed the playfulness in his words.

            Shaking her head sharply to get rid of the lingering images in her mind, she fixed a glare on the glowing runes trapping the sorcerer's body near the portal out of the shadow realm. Taking a shaky breath, she just pointed at it, saying nothing about her throbbing cheek.

            "Go get that and let's get out of here."

            He hesitated then went to do as instructed with another worried glance over his shoulder. The hunter stood still for a moment or two longer. Then, she brought her fist down hard on the bag containing the head. Bone did not crack but the solid thunk and the force as it hit her armored hip from the strike were both rather satisfying.

            "I cannot join with someone I cannot trust. Be silent,"(11) she commanded. "And if you ever try to pull a stunt like that again, we will defeat Belial the hard way. Without your help."

            Kulle's laughter followed her toward the portal as Lyndon struggled with the sorcerer's corpse. Temper dark and mood foul, she moved to the ring of stone to activate it. The scoundrel stepped through first and she followed without another word.


	19. Midnight Meeting

            In the end, their suspicions and fears had proven true. Once he had been restored, Zoltun Kulle had upheld his bargain and led Killashandra and Lyndon to the black soul stone. When he found it to be tampered with and the souls of five lords of hell imprisoned beneath, he turned on them. A final time he asked the hunter to join with him and rule the world at his side. This time, she took the utmost pleasure in telling him simply what she thought of him.

            He laughed as he sent the two giant constructs to attack. Lyndon was almost crushed by one, forced to run while firing to avoid its devastating blows. As he circled the sanctum's floor, he watched in a state of shock as Killa reduced the second construct to a pile of rubble in less time than it took him to run five strides. Then his own fell as she shot her arrows across the center chasm.

            Utterly stunned, he was rooted to the spot near the fallen construct as he watched the flurry of attacks the hunter unleashed. Not even the sand-devils Kulle summoned could stop her. The wind-driven sands might not have been there for all the indication she gave as she spun and dove, firing without cease to drive the sorcerer in circles. Around and back and forth, Lyndon was almost dizzy by the time she fired one final arrow that pierced the man's magical shields and drove into his heart.

            The arrow was vastly different than her normal ones. As fire licked over the long robes, Kulle thrashed. His laughter twisted into agonized screams as the magic consumed him from within, eating him from the inside out. Where the Horadrim had failed to destroy his body, the hunter succeeded. The fiery magic turned his flesh to char and ember, burning and eating the remains away. In the end, there was not even enough ash left to fit into a cupped hand.

            And across the span, Killashandra stood triumphant with eyes burning like hellfire. Lyndon found himself suddenly locked into place for another reason. The grin on her face was as demonic as the creatures she hunted. She had enjoyed Kulle's dying screams, fed off them like they were honey. And even he could tell she was not fully satisfied. This kill had been one to fuel her vengeance and it had fallen short.

            She crossed the be-spelled sand bridge toward the black soulstone. Just as she reached it, Leah arrived along with Adria and Tyrael. With the mortal angel's arrival, the scoundrel found he could move again. His first action was to gasp for breath since he had not even realized he had stopped breathing in the face of what he had seen. He held back as the rest congregated on the hovering stone and Adria retrieved it.

            Now he had a reason to be afraid of his wild wolf. And more reason to figure out what was going on with her that apparently concerned the templar. If what he saw was any indication, she needed something that likely only Kormac could provide. The problem was...how in the Hells was he going to figure that out and make the templar do what he had to do to keep the hunter sane?

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The end was rather anticlimactic to Killa. Belial proved to be far less of a challenge than she had been led to believe. That...or something was seriously wrong. Part of her was still concerned about the rate her powers were increasing. In fact, they seemed to have doubled since Kulle's death and her exposure to the black soulstone. But it was ridiculous to think being so close to it would affect her. He had not had the chance to use it--right?

            Caldeum was saved. The people praised her as their savior and a hero. It was a bitter victory at best. And it should have been sweet. Even as she returned to the camp above the city, she was troubled by these things that should have been but were not. This time was truly different because she did not feel lost and confused as before. Just...disappointed and concerned.

            When she returned to camp, she went straight to Haedrig to leave her weapons and armor for any fixes or patchwork he saw need of. She did not even look up as she left. Lyndon was shadowing her and Kormac's eyes were upon her. Even Tyrael played silent watcher as she went to her bedroll and sank down to stretch out and rest. Sleep would not come but she still closed her eyes and tempted it to approach.

            Kulle's words and the visions he had shown her continued to plague her mind. Every time she began to doze she would see them again. If not them, she would see Kormac thrashing beneath the lash she wielded. Or she would see Lyndon losing himself beneath her as she rode his captive body. What also stuck in her mind was the vision of the enchantress being raped by the mad sorcerer.

            Jealousy or not, rage or not, she did not wish actual ill will on the woman. And to see something like that...left a dark stain on her heart. It was almost reassuring that she could be affected that way. The fact that she was struck by seeing her supposed enemies in such a state proved she was no demon. But it did not mean she was a good person. She could not wish harm like that and still be a monster in other ways.

            "Hunter?" a voice just above a whisper drew her out of those circling thoughts.

            Eyes opening, she looked up to see Kormac crouched near her. The camp's fire had died down and the entire place was quiet save for the sound of sleepers breathing. Almost against her wishes, her eyes darted to the enchantress's bedroll. Eirena was there, sound asleep from the appearance of things. Without another word, the templar beckoned her in clear request to follow as he rose.

            Without his armor, Kormac could move quite softly indeed. Considering for a time, the hunter finally decided to follow. It was not as if she had been asleep anyhow. The two moved quietly from the camp and into the rocks past the washing niche.  Around one bend, she quickly traced the sigils to conjure her bat once more and sent it ahead to do a quick sweep. Nothing stirred and all was well.

            After a little more distance between them and the camp, the templar stopped and turned to face her. Taking a deep breath, she released it and leaned back against some of the stone to wait and hear what he had to say.

            "Killashandra, I've...that is...about what...I wanted to apologize if...what I asked of you...made you uncomfortable in any way. It was not my intent."

            "You asked nothing of me that I was not capable of giving, templar. I am always glad to help a friend with a problem."

            His green eyes were nearly black in the gloom of the rocks but she could still pick out the dark shade of color. Something was again eating at him and she decided to get on with it. After all, it seemed her suspicions had yet to be proven entirely wrong in anything.

            "Do you require additional assistance, templar?"

            "Well...no."

            "Good. Because despite what you believe, I can tell you that what happened has opened my eyes quite a bit. I am not as pure a soul as you need for your ritual."

            Kormac looked taken aback by her statement. His frown returned. "I...don't understand."

            Sighing, Killa folded her arms across her chest. "You really haven't grasped what it is to be a demon hunter, have you?"

            "I remember what you told me about using the weapons of demons against them. But it does not matter. For all that darkness you've embraced, you're not a demon and you are not a monster."

            "Words of wisdom, templar?"

            "Faith. My faith in you."

            That caught her by surprise and she looked up.

            "I believe in you and your quest, hunter. While I do not agree in your methods or the tools you use, they work. In fact, they have proven the strongest weapon we have against the darkness washing over this world. Whatever you believe, this darkness has not corrupted your soul because it remains pure."

            Frowning, she looked away. "I find that hard to believe."

            "Why?"

            His face was earnest, his eyes asking to understand. She studied him before her gaze moved away. There was no way she could tell him what had been happening inside her head and heart. No way she could try and describe the things she had been shown and how they affected her. And he took her silence as a lack of answer.

            "Perhaps your self-doubt is the very thing that keeps you from being a monster, hunter."

            She almost laughed at that but managed to swallow it at the last moment. The smile remained as she shook her head. When she still said nothing, his features grew mildly angry.

            "I am a warrior in the Templar Order. Do you not think I recognize the taint of corruption and darkness when I encounter it? Do you think I am some silly child blind to the differences between light and dark?"

            "And how would you know such when you cannot see into my mind and see the things I have seen about and within myself, templar? You cannot even bring yourself to attempt remembering the past your order's inquisitors stripped from you."

            Her fiery response made him bow his head. Apparently it checked his temper as well because his voice was again low when he spoke rather than loud with passion.

            "I have considered what we discussed, and you are correct. I know little about my past beyond what my order has told me." His head rose as a little touch of light entered his eyes. "But what does it matter? Look what they have done for me. They have turned me into a living weapon, a light against darkness."(1)

            "At what price? Your past? Your humanity? After the battles, that is all we will have left,"(2) she fired back, temper growing.

            "I wouldn't know how to begin. How do I seek memories that have been taken from me?"(3) he inquired as his shoulders sagged a little.

            She took a little pity on him and her voice also quieted and gentled a small bit. "Focus on anything you can remember before you joined the order--dreams, nightmares... It's all there. You need but find a key."(4)

            "You may be right,"(5) he finally said. Taking a deep breath, he released it. "And I think that...I may have found a key. But I don't think it will exonerate my order."

            He reached behind his back and tugged something free from his belt. In his hand was a book and he held it up for her to see.

            "I found a journal on Jondar's corpse, written in an ancient templar cipher. I can translate it, but it will take some time. Perhaps studying his treachery will give me a clue into my past."(6)

            "Perhaps. Why are you concerned?"(7) she asked.

            "It is dangerous. Jondar was once a man of faith, devoted to the templar order. What if he discovered something that made him betray himself?"(8) Kormac was struggling with himself again, it was clear upon his face before it hardened with his decision. "It matters not, for I must do this anyway."(9)

            Turning his full attention back to Killa, he approached her, closing the distance between them. In the darkness of the rocks, he did not see how his nearness made her tense where she rested.

            "I must ask you to promise me something. Should I...lapse into my old sins, whatever they may be, you must kill me as I killed Jondar."(10)

            "Done," she said a little too quickly. "Now what?"(11)

            Kormac moved even closer. Reaching out with his free hand, he laid it over the one visible against her upper arm. Thankfully he could not feel any tension through her hand and had not touched her tense arm. She narrowed her eyes briefly as he stepped closer, trying to ignore the sudden spark of sensation lit in her lower body at just the touch of skin to skin.

            "I have translated a strange passage from Jondar's journal. Long before he began serving Maghda, he found a set of what he called "key words" hidden in a dusty libram. He writes that when he read these words, memories from his past returned to torment him. It was at that point that he began to mistrust the order, though he did not say why."(12)

            Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he offered her the journal and grasped a single folded page sticking out from between the others. "I am prepared to look upon these words and risk my soul, but I want you to understand something. I know I may die at any time. When I do, it must be without a single doubt that I am serving the Light."(13)

            After a moment of hesitation, she unfolded her arms to take the journal. Holding it loosely, she permitted him the chance to tug the paper free without tearing it further. "There is no sin in confronting your fears."(14)

            "Thank you, my friend. But please...remember your promise."(15)

            "My word is my bond," she said simply as he took the page and stepped back. As an afterthought, her free hand went to her belt and she drew the wizard-light free, letting it rise into the air over their heads so he could see the page clearly.

            It took a few moments for him to further steal himself. She remained silent and watchful as he forced his breathing to steady and calm. Then, bowing his head, he unfolded the page to look upon the words. Almost without conscious thought, the hunter flexed her knees a little, ready to move if there should be any unwarranted reaction. Magic was not the only thing that could cause unexpected outbursts or other harmful side effects when it was undone.

            "How odd. They are simple words. Words that I have never seen together befo--uh..."(16) He stopped speaking as light flared within those green eyes. Instead of golden light, it was white. It flashed and flickered like lightning. "I can see everything! Water on a leaf. A burning hut. Light in my mother's eyes. Make it stop!"(17)

            Dropping the page, Kormac's hands flew to grab his head as he fell to his knees. Wide eyes stared sightless at the ground before him as his body jerked with each new memory bursting into his mind. Killa moved forward, dropping beside him just as his hands fell from his head to claw at the stone they knelt on. Swiftly, she grabbed hold of his wrists and used her strength to force his arms up across his chest.

            "Make it stop!"

            Sliding around behind him, she pinned his arms there, pushing her entire weight against his back as he cried out in pain and struggled, caught in the flood of memories she could not see. Falling forward, the templar thrashed in the grip of a seizure as she straddled his body and kept him from harming himself as best she could while being bucked against.

            As suddenly as it had begun, the fit passed. He jerked a few more times then slumped, gasping for breath. The flashes of light in his eyes came slower, then slower, finally stopping all together. He closed his eyes, shuddering beneath her as she tightened her embrace to keep him still. "I... I... It's slowing now. I can... Oh no. No!"(18)

            Whatever he had just seen made him jerk and renew his struggles as tears of what she assumed were pain fell from his still sightless eyes. By then, his thrashing struggles and her attempts at wrestling him down had caused him to twist around beneath her so they were face to face with his arms pinned between their chests.

            "I was a young man, a promising soldier of Westmarch. The order recruited me. They lied to me! Piled false sins upon me!"(19) Pain and rage bled into his raised voice as he nearly screamed in the realization that he had indeed suffered torment needlessly--as Killa had told him before.

            "Why do you think they did this?"(20) she asked, slightly breathless herself from their struggles.

            His emerald eyes were again clear and lit by a familiar righteous gold light barely kept in check. Clearly his own temper was as volatile as hers. And he had not yet realized just what positions they were in.

            "I do not know, but I am sure this is why Jondar turned from the order. He was a fool. The grand maester cannot possibly know what his inquisitors have done! When I return with the tomes, he will punish them for their sins."(21)

            Suddenly, Kormac realized he was lying on the ground and that Killa was on top of him. His hands were perilously close to her breasts and throat, the latter framing both his arms and giving him an all-too-intimate idea that she might just have enjoyed pinning him down if the firm buds of her nipples were any indication. Eyes widening, red immediately burned across his face as she withdrew.

            "Please... I must think on this."(22)

            "I will leave you to your thoughts then, templar. But I suggest you seek your bed tonight. We will be leaving soon to hunt down the last demon lord."

            The hunter turned away as if nothing had happened. But at last, the thick templar was starting to wonder about her and the reaction he had felt after their struggle. Unfortunately, his mind was awash in chaos about what it might mean, as well as memories that had not been within his mind for years, and the great impact of what he had just learned would mean for the templar order. Kormac would probably get as much sleep as the hunter--which was to say, none.


	20. That Scoundrel

_What is wrong with me? This cannot be the fall into madness that my mentors warned me about. They never once indicated or said that the hunter would gain such power when they began their self-destructive path. In fact, those I know who did meet such an end became raving, maddened things that no amount of reason could reach. They dove head-first into danger and death without any care about innocents that might be close to their prey._

_So if I am not beginning to fall, what is happening to me?_

_I am plagued by the things the sorcerer, Zoltun Kulle, showed me in his mad attempt to sway me into joining with him. Whenever I close my eyes they are before me again and I want...so much. I was tempted. For a moment as he showed me what he could and would give me...gods help me but I am still so tempted by the debauchery. I had thought my lust was controlled after my tryst with Lyndon._

_Every time I try to sleep I see him again though. Deep inside, I know that he would never  be so content as Kulle wanted to believe. What man of such passion and easy nature would enjoy being collared and leashed to a woman that frightened him? And I have seen it in his eyes. He is frightened of me. I wish it were not so. No matter my lust or darker desires, true fear is the last thing I ever wanted to see in his eyes. He is too good a man. Not even the riches he desired would entice him to such a fate._

_And the enchantress...what did that damned sorcerer think I wanted? To see her hurt? To see her humiliated? To see her raped? No matter how much I dislike a person, never have I wanted to see them...treated in such a manner. Every time I see what he had in store for her--not knowing if he desired it or if he was just using it to sway me--I am almost sick. And I realize I have been unfairly cruel to her. I have been treating her poorly. Guilt is not something I've had to deal with for a long time...not since I was a child._

_But...once more I return to the question of...if that were true, why can I not absolve his vision of Kormac? Why is that the one that is so difficult to deal with? He is a templar. In fact, from what Tyrael has shared with me, he is one of the very paragons of his order. And after he came to me to ask my help when he finally began definite effort to retrieve his memories...I know that nothing will sway him. And nothing should._

_He would never give into the sinful things eating me and fueling my rage. Nor should he. To be a templar is to be without sin. Even if his order's methods are deplorable, he was correct. They did mold him into a living weapon of the light. Could that be why I feel this way? Why I want him? My weapons are of the dark, of demonic creation. Never have I used or been able to handle a weapon of the light. But if so...why do I want him as a man?_

_I would seek Lyndon out once more, but...to do so without him offering any invitation would be no better than simply using him. I like him too much for that. And...I don't know if it would work the way it did last time. He's afraid of me now. Before it was just the thrill he enjoyed, just as I did. To ask again now that it has changed...would be a greater crime. If only there were still cultists or demons to kill, perhaps I could work my frustrations out on them to regain the balance the scoundrel helped me grasp before._

_With my growing powers though...there's never any challenge. They are weak, pathetic things. None of them have gotten close enough to lay a hand on me and whatever spells they cast or weapons they throw are clumsy, slow, easily evaded. Killing demons once fueled my hatred and gave me a rush of pleasure. With this increasing power...my hunt grows bitter and stagnant. Still, killing something is better than nothing. At least, something harmful to humans._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Lyndon was...uneasy. And he had good reason to be. Staring down at the leather-bound journal he had again "borrowed" from its owner, he found his mouth and throat dry and his heart racing. He was not entirely certain what to make of the entries he had just read save that their demon hunter had a very serious problem. And she knew him better than he had realized. That or he had lost his touch with acting.

            For all that he had been wondering what was eating at Killashandra, he had never imagined it was so complicated. Of course women were masters of keeping secrets. Even he had never managed to be so good. But in the end it always affected their behavior. And he had seen the tension that had not lessened between Killa and Kormac. Now he had further evidence to support his suspicions.

            Opening the journal again, he scanned the last page before turning it on a whim. His eyes widened at the large lettered writing that spread across the next page. The words were ones he did not understand, but her handwriting was jagged and bold, as if she had made them more of a drawing than writing. Some phrases repeated and he knew a chant when he saw one. But as he had no translation, he could not know just what it meant.

            Closing the book again after the remainder of the pages proved blank, he just held it and stared. He had seen how her thoughts were circling in the last few pages. Her latest entry was the worst. And what he had read, that was a bad sign. If this falling cycle was true, she was on the brink of it. And dammed if that woman had not read him too easily to see right through him. Now what was he to do?

            Putting the journal back into the pack exactly as he had found it with clothing and items arranged just as they had been before, he turned back around and rested his chin on his folded hands, thinking. The wagon lurched over some object, making him rock. It also meant he should leave the warmth and shelter soon to spell one of the others. Journeying from a desert into a frigid winter land was not easy on anyone.

            They had started out with three wagons--one being Haedrig's smithy, another belonging to a strange old jeweler they had rescued and who had decided to tag along, the third being a wagon for their belongings and shelter--but were down to just the two trade wagons. When Leah's vision had pegged Arreat Crater as the place that Azmodan was going to launch his assault from. Such information could only be a trap. But they went.

            Lyndon briefly wondered why he was still with them. He knew the answer had nothing to do with gold and treasure. He also would not admit to the real reason. It was also why he had again borrowed Killa's journal since she never spoke much to any of them. And Kormac had been showing almost similar signs. He had been so preoccupied that he had wound up being almost rude to Eirena a few times and had lost a lot of his stumbling and bumbling around her.

            It almost seemed that no one else had noticed the trouble. Eirena was still too new to their group to have any clue how things had been and how the others had been behaving. Leah was almost always with either Adria or Tyrael--the latter of which was distracted by the coming battle. A true military commander, focused on fighting demons on the front lines again. Kormac was preoccupied--apparently with regaining his memories. Haedrig was...well, Haedrig. And that just left him, Lyndon, the scoundrel.

            What was a scoundrel to do?


	21. Cold Shoulder

            Lyndon watched as Tyrael and Killashandra came down from the battlements. Both were crusted with snow and ice from the horrible storms outside. The ex-angel looked a little more affected though as he was shivering. The hunter beside him appeared entirely unaffected. She still wore the hood and mask she had in Caldeum but it was far heavier and weighted with metal for protection and to keep it in place.

            They were speaking about something, likely the coming battle. Considering the two, he decided to get a little closer. He was correct. They were speaking of lighting signal fires to rally the remaining soldiers. Neither noticed him as he stood against one of the support beams near them. When he heard Tyrael give her the locations for each signal fire, he expected to see her approach either him, Kormac, or Eirena to accompany her.

            Instead, she started for the gate with only a spider at her side. Watching her go out alone, he frowned. The things he had read in her journal ate at him. Pushing away from the post, he hurried to the gate to look out. He was almost sorry he did as a blast of frigid wind-driven snow hit him directly in his face. Scrubbing it out of his eyes, he squinted and peered through the snow after her. The white blended in too well but could not conceal the crimson of enchantments on her bow.

            Shivering, he pushed forward and past one of the few guards outside the gate. Making it to the wall, he stared over the edge at the sheer drop. The drop--and the rolling black tide that was the demon horde. It covered the ground and stretched into the distance as great balls of fire flew toward the keep. Lyndon could not hope to count the sheer amount of demons below or above soaring through the skies. Dread formed a huge lump in his stomach the same temperature as the ice.

            Pushed back toward the gate by the wind, the scoundrel shielded his face in futile effort to see where Killa had gone. Her white armor had blended in too well with the blowing snow. There was no sign. And no way he could hope to catch up to her. Stumbling back into the keep as the guards shut the gates once more, he shook as much snow off him as he could and hurried toward the great fires--and one person in particular.

            "Kormac!"

            The templar looked up from where he had been sharpening his sword. Eirena, actually fully clothed due to the temperatures, was bundled in a cloak beside him. Apparently they had been talking and Lyndon had interrupted. He chose to ignore it.

            "Killashandra's gone out onto the battlements!"

            "So is her way. She has not once faltered or hesitated to do her duty."

            Eirena suddenly spoke up, "Wait. Why has she gone and you have not followed her?"

            Lyndon sighed, "Because she went alone. Kormac, with this storm--did you even look at what's on the other side of the wall?'        

            The templar was still. But after a moment his face did grow hard to match the paler hue of his skin. Setting the sharpening stone aside, he lifted himself from the solid stool he had been sitting on. Metal hissed as he slid the blade into the sheath and turned to where his shield and helm rested. Haedrig had been busy helping the soldiers of the keep fix their armor and weapons but he had already finished the templar's newest armor which was far heavier.

            "Which way did she go, thief?"

            "I heard her talking with Tyrael about lighting the signal fires," he answered without taking time to enter his usual arguments with the man about the title.

            Eirena looked on as Kormac pulled the helm on and secured it. "How do you always know what to do?"(1)

            "What do you mean?"(2) he asked as he hefted his shield and slung it onto his back.

            "You are so certain about the right course. Do you ever question yourself?"(3)

            He paused at that. Turning, he moved one hand to check that the tome was still in place at his hip on the heavy chains. The green eyes were barely visible in the shadow cast by the helm. Studying the enchantress, he also glanced at Lyndon before answering her.

            "A wrong decision is better than no decision. And once I decide, I have to be committed, or we all die."(4)

            The woman went silent to consider his words. Bowing politely to her, the templar turned to the scoundrel. Lyndon was giving him another strange look but he would worry about that later. Not that it prevented him from reaching up to make sure his amulet was still in its place around his neck.

            "I will find her."

            Nodding, Lyndon moved aside so Kormac could pass. Rising as the templar departed, Eirena moved to stand beside the scoundrel. "I do not understand. The demon hunter has not had much trouble overcoming hardships before. Has something changed?"

            "Whatever could you mean?"

            "Neither of you have reacted like this simply because she has gone out alone to face the daemons. I feel as if I am missing something."

            Lyndon looked at the beauty at his side. Again he found himself hesitating, but he was still a scoundrel. So, he fastened on his most charming smile and turned to face her. "Not at all, my dear. Our dull templar friend is simply understanding how it feels to be left behind. Why, all he wants in life is to be out there killing and preaching his faith to every cursed beast he comes across. Well, I was simply giving him the chance."

            "You do not like the cold very much, do you?"

            "Not one bit!"


	22. Rage Burns Cold

            The wind was more a challenge than the demons infesting the walls. Although the footing was treacherous, the boots Haedrig had crafted were fashioned like demon talons over the toes. Between those sharp points and the heels, she had no trouble moving across the icy snow. It was the sudden blasts of wind that nearly blew her from the walls whenever she was not shielded by some stone tower or rise. It was slowing her down and her anger was growing.

            Grabbing one of the shadowy spider's legs, she pulled herself into a strong blast of wind, keeping her head down as she pushed on. Her companion was closer to the ground, protected by the wall's guard and able to move without as much trouble as she was having. So, bow and arrow in one hand, the other often flew to grab hold of its anchor or the wall to make sure she was not blown over.

            She had managed to light three of the fires and was on her way to the fourth. Due to the storm the walls were mostly empty--save for corpses of the guards unlucky enough to be caught out in the open. Several corpses of winged demons were also found, riddled with arrows or burnt to cinders. At least the defenders had managed to take the things with them from all appearances. It did little to comfort her as her hatred burned within her breast, fueled by every new body she saw or every trail of blood leading over the wall.

            A scream from ahead caused her to lift her head and squint through the wind-driven snow. Red came to her vision and she moved forward in a sprint, keeping low as possible. Sure enough, a keep guard was there, fighting off several bright green demons she was all too familiar with. Releasing the spider, she drew the waiting arrow back and loosed it as she moved. Each shot sent one of the runts flying.

            "Get away from him!"

            Then the guard fell as a thrown spear drove into his body. It gave her a clear sight of the two larger brutes beyond and the one that had thrown the spear. Lunging forward, she skidded to a stop on one knee beside the fallen guard as her spider attacked the two brutes. It used her arrows to climb them, driving the bolts in further as it sank its fangs repeatedly into demon flesh. As her power had grown, so had the creatures she conjured so the spider's jaws tore hunks of flesh free every time it bit.

            She was distracted by a screech from above. A purple-tainted shape was diving toward her from above and she switched her aim toward it. Her aim was impaired by the snow flying into her face but she still fired several bolts in a row. The thing screamed, jerking and wings flailing as it fell toward them. Diving to the side, she covered the guard's body as the flier narrowly missed crashing into them, bouncing up and being thrown over the wall by another gust of wind.

            Pushing herself back up, she glared to where the other demons had been. Her spider was finished with them, bloodied and making its way back to her. Since it was a magic thing, it did not feel the cold nor care. Turning her attention back to the guard, she gave him a quick check. The spear had driven through his side but not hit anything vital. If he received healing soon, he would survive to fight again.

            "It's hopeless!"(1) he said as she put the bow aside to see if there was any bleeding inside his armor. "We're all going to die."(2)

            Narrowing her eyes, she dropped one hand to her belt. Opening the hard leather cases there, she pulled a healing potion free. Gripping the vial between her teeth, she reached out to grasp the spear. A hard pull straight back brought the guard up off the stone floor as well. "Aaaagh!"(3)

            Tossing the bloody thing away, she grabbed the vial and caught the cork in her teeth to pop it open. Instead of pressing it to his lips, she poured the liquid straight into the break in his armor and the gaping hole in his side. Stopping before the potion was fully gone, she then shoved his helm up enough to get the bottle to his lips and make him drink the remainder.

            "It is only hopeless if you give up," she growled as she tossed the empty vial aside, shattering it on the stone. "Everything dies. Take as many with you as you can before you do."

            Groaning, the guard sat up slowly, gripping his wounded side. But no more blood was flowing. The potion had already begun to do its work. Rising, she grabbed her bow and gave the guard a shove to get him out of immediate sight against the wall. Satisfied he would live a little longer to kill a few more demons, she moved on her way again, kicking the green corpses out of her path as she continued.

            More screeching came from ahead along with the cries of men struck in combat. The fighting was always ahead or around her, never where she was. It was making her mad. Clenching her jaw against the sudden need to let her teeth chatter, she pressed forward. Suddenly, the wind ceased to howl and there was a clear spot. Staggering at the loss of resistance from the wind, she tensed and scanned for the attack that was surely coming.

            Something struck her from behind and metal groaned as a powerful force crushed it in its grasp. Pain twinged in her shoulder as she twisted to bring her bow up. The flier's jaws opened as it shrieked in her face, fetid breath choking her with the stench of rotten and half digested flesh. A spear caught it in that open maw and the pressure was gone, letting her crash to the ground. The guard she had just saved was staggering toward her, still gripping his side but sword in hand.

            "Run!"(4) he shouted.

            Another flier rose up from behind the wall with a screech. Even as she loosed her arrow toward it, she was too late. The wind caught her bolt and sent it flying harmlessly over the demon. The creature grabbed the guard in its talons and beat its skeletal wings hard to carry him over the wall. Even as he screamed, she saw him stabbing the flier in the breast with his sword and its screams of pain. He had done exactly as she asked.

            Hatred almost choked her as rage made everything appear red. Red as the blood smeared over the ground. Red as the colors of the dead guards. Red as the fire rising so suddenly from inside it erupted from her in a scream of rage. And she let it. The cold was suddenly gone as her body burned and she rose. The wind beat at her and she stood solid against it, stalking along the battlement like a creature possessed.

            The hulking demons with massive maces clambering up the walls barely reached the top before they were sent plummeting back to their deaths as her arrows devoured them from the inside out. Snow rose around her form as the wind whipped the white cloak out behind her like some vengeful angel's bloodied wings. Power filled her and bled in crimson hate from her glaring eyes.

            Suddenly, the ground quaked and lurched. Killa spun and brought her bow up just as a flier appeared from the sky to slam into her back. Its claws scrabbled in attempt to grab hold as her arm came back and she drove the bladed guard extending past her elbow up into its body. Screaming, it flew off and crashed into the ground, skidding away as she rolled over the stone to be stopped by the rail. Then a roar made the ground tremble.

            Darkness fell as a giant shadow was cast over the walk where she had been standing just a moment before. Looking up, she started to move when a giant bladed leg came down. A scream was torn from her as the tip pierced her side, a foot of the blade slicing deeper into her waist as the demonic hell bearer secured its grip on the top of the wall. The giant worm-like monstrosity appeared unaware of her form trapped against the wall by its claw.

            Massive jaws ringed by fangs and framed by barbed tusks opened as it spewed the load of demons it carried in its foul innards onto the wall. The stubby runts of fallen troopers and their overlords landed and slid over the ground before getting to their feet and hefting their weapons. Several casters also landed and immediately started to cast spells to protect the thing retching up more of the demonic horde.

            Even trapped, Killa was not helpless. Ignoring the pain that emanated from her side, she brought her bow up. Multiple arrows were set as she aimed not at the demons but toward the sky. Orange light flared around the shafts, blackening them as she drew the string back. Releasing it pulled on where the bladed leg had her pinned and her hatred ignited the arrows as they soared upward. The wind was unable to touch these as they reached the highest point of the rise and turned to rain downward. Each bolt split into two, then four, spreading her vengeance over the demons around her.

            Roars of pain deafened her as she twisted to loose arrows up into the massive jaws of the hell bearer. It roared, retching again even as the bolts ate away at its putrid flesh, searing and eating skin and muscle away from bone. Thrashing, it lost part of its grip, slipping and jerking as it scrabbled to regain its hold. Killa was relentless, firing bolt after bolt into is head until finally it fell. She screamed again when the leg trapping her was wrenched free, opening her side further.

            Demons left by the bearer had spotted her and began to close in as she brought her arm up and grabbed another arrow. The closest to her fell with the blackened bolt driving straight through its skull to strike one of the overlords in the chest. Her spider had killed one of the casters and held the other at bay so it had not been able to raise the fallen shock troops. It was only a matter of time as the overlords closed in behind the cannon fodder.

            "I'll see your heart!"(5)

            She jerked at the familiar cry, as surprised as the demons were when something silver was there, slamming into them with a charge powerful enough to knock the entire group down and send the smallest flying. Light flashed off metal and blinded the demons as well as the fallen hunter. They screeched and turned their attention on the newest threat.

            Blinking light out of her vision, Killa managed to push herself up, not aware of the red smears the motion left on the ground or her side. Again she drew an arrow and fired but missed. Shaking her head sharply, she drew another, forcing herself to focus. The next bolt struck its target. Unfortunately, it split in two shafts when it struck the thick shoulder piece. Half drove into the shoulder and separated the joint from the socket.

            The other half of the bolt struck the corpse of the flier that had knocked her against the wall. Only, it was not a corpse. With a pained screech the demon lurched up and began clawing its way toward her, dragging its wounded body across the snow. Grabbing another arrow, her vision blurred as she drew her bow. Blinking hard, she tried to focus as her head swam. Then silver and blue filled her sight.

            "Forget that one! **_I_** AM YOUR FOE!"(6)

            Killa dropped her bow lest she accidentally hit the templar. Catching the drawn arrow beneath the curl of one finger, she freed her other hand to scrub at her eyes and try to clear her vision. It helped enough that when she looked for another target, she saw the mangled corpses left in the templar's devastating wake. He had taken her kills. Rage kept her alert as her hatred boiled once more.

            Pushing herself upright, she struggled to get to her feet. Swaying as she stood, she grabbed the wall. In her distraction, her companion had been undone by the demon attacks. Making note of that, she made herself turn away from the templar and his last kill. Leaning heavily on the wall, she let her hate consume her. Straightening, she began to walk forward, heading for the signal fire visible just around the next tower and corner of the walls.

            "It feels good to be on a battlefield again."(7) Kormac said behind her.

            Killa managed a couple more steps before a blast of wind sent her staggering to the side. Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet and move on. Then the wind was blocked as a shadow fell over her. Instinctively she spun, bow up only to have her twist turn into a swoon sending her falling as the bloodied stones rose to meet her.

            "Hunter!" came an oddly distant cry as she felt herself caught.

            Arms were around her as darkness cleared her vision and she blinked, registering that she was staring into familiar green eyes. But the name they belonged to was suddenly slipping away along with the sound of the wind and thunder from battle. Her side was throbbing and she felt something oozing wet and hot dragging a chill down her leg and spreading beneath her armor.

            "By the gods, Killa...what have you done?"

            Everything was slipping away. A scream of rage rose from inside as darkness filled her vision and she clawed at consciousness, enraged it was slipping through her fingers like blood. Then, even her hatred bled away...


	23. A Light in Growing Dark

            It was hot. She was burning up. She knew she was female. She knew she hurt. Little things began to trickle into being one by one. The trickle grew as memory returned. She heard voices, felt something cold. It felt so good it hurt. Her lungs burned, she needed to breathe. How did she breathe? Her chest. She had to make her chest expand. Where was her chest? Sensation began to return sluggishly just as everything else did.

            Suddenly, she drew a sharp breath. Pain was instant and she released the hastily drawn breath in a scream. Pain and fire. It was eating into her side, spreading along her body. Arms rose to strike out as she thrashed, instinctively trying to get away. Something grabbed her, weight fell over her. Anger rose and she fought harder.

            Voices. Noise. Something was roaring in her ears and she realized it was her own voice. But there was another--no, two. Words. They meant something. More things came to hold her arms together over her head. Thrashing, kicking, the pain and fire consumed her as she screamed in rage at whatever was holding her down. Then the voices and this time she understood the words as something covered her mouth to quiet her.

            "I don't understand why this is not working!"

            "Kormac, take her arms. I will try. But do not let up on that wound!"

            Both voices were deep. Men's voices. They were familiar. Faces swam before her as she realized her eyes were closed. Opening them, she thrashed the moment the weight left her but her arms were caught again as there was a satisfying cry of pain. Her knee came up--making her burning side scream--and connected with something that gave a different cry.

            "Hellspawn! Tyrael, are you all right?"

            "I'm fine. Hold her down! The bleeding's started again."

            Pressure against her leg and suddenly she could not move either of them. Her mouth was open, screaming into whatever was covering it. Suddenly she remembered to bite. Another cry of pain and she tasted blood. But the sound made her freeze. It was familiar. Suddenly it was important to look to the source as she blinked her eyes rapidly and tried to focus on the blur over her head.

            "Killa, stop this! We're trying to help you!"

            Finally, her vision cleared enough to see a face. Disheveled hair of dark brown, nearly black where sweat made it cling. Blinking, she stared at the harsh features worn and darkened by sand and elements. The face was familiar. Unconsciously, she settled down as she tried to remember who this was and why he was so familiar.

            "Keep her still, I'm almost done."

            The second voice drew her attention down. Even though the first man's hand was covering her mouth, he did not try to hold her head down. Lifting it, she saw another with even darker skin. Silver and gold armor wrapped in a dull green cloak. She knew this one too, but could not remember. Then he turned his head to look at her and the golden eyes made her freeze for a moment.

            Fire ate into her side again as she arched, fighting against the dark stranger sitting on her legs, wrenching her arms down to try and break free of the lighter stranger. They both almost fell at the sheer strength of her struggles. Light played over her bared middle, emanating from the dark one's hands. And it hurt like hell!

            "It's hard to believe she's still this strong after losing so much blood," the darker commented.

            Her eyes snapped open again and she glared bloody murder up at the one holding her arms. His shock was clear and her hatred suddenly raged as her eyes blazed crimson.

            "By all that is holy, Tyrael! Is this normal?"

            The other looked up from what he was doing and froze. "I...think so."

            "What foul creature has possessed her?"

            "None, that is, I believe, the curse of what she is. Because she has gazed into the souls of demons...she has seen enough of hell it has left her mark upon her."

            They were both distracted. She took the chance to bite down on the hand covering her mouth again. This time the cry was music to her ears. His eyes flashed with golden light turning forest into emerald. And a sudden realization made her go still in surprise. She remembered. It triggered everything else that had not yet returned to her. The wall, the demons, the battle, the name.

            Even though her side burned, she did not move again. Staring into those green eyes with fascination, she returned to her senses and held still for the healing light to wash through her. Now that she had stopped fighting, it no longer hurt. Warmth filled her rather than burned her. And when the dark hands finally left her side whole, she continued to stare into those green eyes.

            "I think it's safe to let her up now," the second man said.

            The first blinked, breaking eye contact to look at him. Slowly, he drew his hand away from her mouth as he looked back down. Blood stained her lips and chin, smeared over her face. The marks of her teeth were deep and she had torn a lot of flesh.

            "Kormac," she said.

            "Are you back with us, hunter?" he asked, still holding her arms.

            Blinking, she took several deep breaths. There was a lingering ache but no pain. "I...think so. Tyrael?"

            "Welcome back, Shandra. How are you feeling?"

            The templar's grip on her arms eased and she slowly drew them down, relaxing strained muscles. When she did not lash out, the mortal angel also moved to slide off her legs. Slowly, she collected herself and tried to sit up. Kormac's hands caught her when she started to fall and helped her upright before he withdrew, cradling the hand she had bitten.

            "You really want me to answer that, Tyrael?" she nearly croaked. Her throat was raw from what she gathered had been a lot of screaming.

            "Given that you're able to answer me verbally now, I simply wished to make sure. You gave us...quite a scare."

            Groaning, she let her head fall back against the stone wall. That was when the most recent of memories returned and she looked around. They were not in the keep but they were inside shelter. A fire was burning as were several torches. A kit with medical supplies was laid out near them but there was little else present. She moved one hand to her side but there was no gaping wound to be felt.

            "Where are we?"

            The templar rose, going to the kit to tend his hand as he answered, "When you fell, I carried you to the nearest tower to get out of the battle. You were bleeding...very bad. I tried to heal you."

            "And you nearly took his head off. Do you remember?" Tyrael asked as he offered her a waterskin.

            "No. What else? What did I do to you?" she asked, noticing several other bruises and marks on both.

            "I am no healer, but I believe that you were...reacting on instinct. Your body was burning hot and every time we tried to heal you, you lashed out."

            "I never want to hear you scream like that again, hunter," came from Kormac although he did not look up from binding his hand.

            Taking a sip, she let the water trickle down her throat to moisten it before taking a bigger sip. Only when her throat no longer cracked with each swallow did she take a longer drink.

            "I remember...one of you saying something. What was it that possessed me?"

            Tyrael looked to Kormac. The templar only cleared his throat. Seeing the man was going to be of no help, the ex-angel looked back to the still-bloodied hunter.

            "I am not that well versed in demon hunters despite what I do know of them. Shandra, is it normal for your eyes to glow?"

            Blinking a few times, she considered the question. "Well, most of the more experienced hunters have glowing eyes, yes. Mine never have before."

            "They do now. Or did, the light is gone now."

            She remained silent for a few moments. Tyrael watched the frown form on her face.

            "I take it, this is not a good sign?"

            Looking up, she met his gaze. "That depends on perspective. When a hunter has reached that point, they have to become more careful. It becomes far easier to loose focus and stray from their path. It's a good thing they have survived so long and gained such power, but all power comes with a price."

            "Shandra, does this have anything to do with...what we spoke of in Caldeum?"

            Too sore to tense, she sighed and fixed the angel a glare. While he did not say what they spoke of, it was too close for comfort.

            "Partially. I've seen several signs that...I may be nearing the end of my hunt. And it is likely best I warn you of it now." Her eyes flared crimson when she met the angel's gaze and he tensed. "But I give you my word, Tyrael, that I will destroy the last lords of hell before I fall down the path of chaos."

            "Given what I have seen you do, I have no doubt of that."

            "Just what are you doing out here anyhow, Tyrael? You're needed in the keep to help guide the remaining forces."

            Tyrael was rising slowly and straightening his armor. "I was on my way to join the battle when I felt something very wrong. Kormac ran into me on his way to bring you to the keep." He looked to the silent templar. "However, had he brought you back in such a state, it would have devastated the men and they would have lost the hope you have given them. They look to you to save them and fight because of you. I persuaded him to return here so I could tend your injuries."

            "Since when are you able to heal anyhow? A broken arm is one thing..."

            Tyrael smiled in a way that would have been infuriating had she not been exhausted as she was. "I am mortal now, but apparently I still have the ability to do many things mortals cannot."

            "Hm. Why does that not surprise me?"

            "Rest and recover your strength, Shandra. I'll return to the keep for now to make certain the men remain focused. But the sooner you return the better."

            He nodded at Kormac and turned to go. Killa remained where she was propped up at and watched him depart. Once the door closed on the blast of icy wind, she sighed. For several moments it was quiet save the ever-present sound of thunder and minute tremors passing through the stone. She took another sip of water and looked down at her bared middle.

            Kormac stood suddenly and hefted his helm, pulling it back on. She looked up as he picked up his shield and fastened it to his arm. The sword belt was next, fastened into place so the weapon was at hand and the heavy tome hung at the other side. He refused to look toward her as he took a few steps toward the door.

            "I will return shortly. The remaining fire must be lit."

            "Be careful."

            A nod was his only response before he, too, left her alone. Minutes passed and she finally moved to struggle up to her feet. Her head was too light and spun dangerously, but she stayed still against the wall until her vision cleared. Careful steps took her to the table near the fire and she sank down in the crude wooden chair close to it. Suddenly, she was so cold. The heat felt good. Good enough that she folded her arms on the table and lowered her head to them to fall asleep in a few moments.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Warmth was spilling over her shoulders, embracing her like wings folding around her. It was enough to draw her out of a dreamless sleep as someone tucked her in. Only two people had ever tucked her in and for a moment, her sleepy mind was not tainted by past horror and burning hatred. Struggling to open her eyes, she sighed and turned her head where it rested on an outstretched arm.

            "Papa?" she murmured sleepily at the tall figure blurry eyes glimpsed. Her hand went out to capture his hand in a tight grip.

            The blur paused and a soothing weight touched her shoulder, rubbing over her covered arm and circling her back slowly then moving to press lightly with a pleasant coolness against her hot forehead. "Shhh...sleep."

            The voice was odd, but reassured, she sighed. Letting her head fall back to her arm--unaware that she was not laying in a bed, she smiled softly and let sleep re-claim her. But her hand remained locked on the hand she held. And Kormac stood there at a complete loss. Looking down at the sleeping hunter, he felt a mix of strange emotions before he finally moved around to sit down on the other side of the table. Their hands rested atop it at an angle that was only awkward to him.

            He found that he was drawn to watching her sleeping face rather than the flames in the hearth. Never before had he ever seen her so...peaceful. Always she was moving and glaring and focused when awake. But in sleep her features were so soft, so...innocent. There was no pain and no struggle, no consuming need to destroy and kill evil. She was...beautiful. Just like Eirena but different.

            Fighting back the sudden urge to reach out and touch the raven black hair spilling over her arm, Kormac sighed--quietly. In the firelight, her tanned skin was almost golden kissed. Even the faint stains of red he knew were made by his blood when she bit his hand were transformed into something else...almost as if she had been eating berries before falling asleep. Strawberries. When she should have been picking them instead.

            Confused by the trail of his thoughts, he looked at the fire again, making certain it was going. Leaning forward and twisting so he did not pull on her arm, he reached out and managed to use his free hand and one armored foot to get some more wood upon the flames so it would keep her warm. There was still a bit of a chill to her fingers where they were curled against his palm and he wanted her to be warm.

            The templar waited in silence, confused, and yet patient. Even with the sounds of the battle around them shouting at the warrior in him they had to be up and moving to save lives, he could not seem to really put forth the effort to disturb Killashandra. She had more than earned a moment of peace. And if it meant he had to sit still by a fire to make certain she had it, he would. That realization alone made him frown in thought.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Her head was pounding with a monster of a headache as she started to wake. It took a shifting of her limbs to actually realize they were present. A tingling numbness had spread through her body and betrayed the fact she had likely fallen asleep in a position other than lying down. Stiffness was the next sensation before her hands twitched. One was gripping something. Lifting her head, she took a deep breath and yawned before her eyes decided to open.

            Free hand rising, she felt a faint tug from something draped over her. It was not her blanket. Rubbing at her eyes, she cleared them enough to focus on what it was she had caught hold of. A hand. Blinking, her gaze automatically slid to the side to see Kormac looking back at her. There was a very unusual expression on his face that made her wonder as she uncurled sleep-heavy fingers.

            "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, templar."

            Since she had already returned to rubbing her aching eyes, she missed the flicker of loss that crossed his face. And her mind was still too slowed by sleep to notice that he was still holding her hand even though she had released him. It was when she moved to sit up and drew her arm away that he let her fingers slide away from his. A wince caught her as she hitched her breath.

            The heavy blue cloak fell away from her and she felt a sudden chill. Pushing it aside, she rotated sore shoulders to work out the stiffness, moving her legs and knees to return circulation and regain mobility. It also gave her a chance to look at her side. What she saw made her go still and frown. Where the wound had been was not newly healed flesh. In fact, it looked almost as if it had been a cauterized wound received years before. There was a touch of roughness to the scarring but the rest was smooth and aged.

            Poking at it, she found it tender but not as much as her arm had been after the bone had been mended and the muscles healed. After a moment, she sat back in the chair and sighed.

            "How are you feeling, hunter?"

            "Sore. And hungry."

            Kormac rose at last and moved to where their packs rested. As he walked past her, he unthinkingly reached out to pull the cloak back up over her shoulders. This time, Killa was fully aware of the gesture and studied his back in silence. By the time he had turned back around with the bundles of their food, she had schooled her expression. And again the templar felt a strange pang of loss at the familiar set of those sharply curved black brows.

            "How long was I asleep?"

            "A few hours. Not long."

            Her hand brushed along his when she took the bundle he offered her and he felt a strange warmth spread from the contact. Blaming the fact it was his injured hand she had touched, he moved back to his seat and they unwrapped the food to begin to eat.

            "Why did you not heal your hand?" she asked after several moments of quiet between them.

            Looking down, a touch of surprise entered his expression. Kormac suddenly realized that he could have done just that. Instead, he had bandaged it up and more or less forgotten the injury as he worked. He remembered it hurting every time he clenched his fist when using his shield to block a demon's attack, but it had only driven him to fight harder. That from just a bite?

            "I had other things on my mind. The last fire was lit and more guardsmen rallied together. They stand a chance now with the increased numbers."

            "I apologize," she said.

            "You were mad with pain and fever. I should not have been covering your mouth but holding your jaw. Do not be concerned with it."

            The silence again fell between them. Only for once, it was somehow awkward. Then Killa spoke as she tore a piece of bread free to toy with.

            "Did I...say anything? All I remember is fire and pain...and that I was trapped and had to get away."

            Kormac looked back at her, jaw pausing in chewing on the hard cheese he had bitten. Considering, he thought back over the entire struggle, ignoring the sound of her screams that echoed in his mind. "You did not say anything, only the screams."

            Taking a deep breath, she released it in a sigh. Nodding, she bit into the bread and just chewed. Although neither of them were aware of it, they were not tasting what they ate. It was merely habit they ate at all.

            "Why did you go out alone, hunter? Why did you leave Lyndon behind?" he finally asked.

            He received no answer. But when he looked at her, he saw the hunter's gaze rested on the fire, staring through the flames as she thought. Moments stretched on as she ate a few more pieces of bread without really being aware of the motions themselves.

            "Because I had to test how much this...power I have has grown," she finally answered without breaking her stare at the flames. "I had to see if I was...still in control of it. Or if it was going to consume me. None of you...I couldn't risk any of you if it happened that I was..."

            "This...these signs you mentioned. What did you mean?"

            "It's part of the curse of a demon hunter. After enduring so much, living and breathing so much hatred for so long, not even the most skilled and focused can escape it."

            "Curse?"

            Her eyes reflected the flames when they turned toward him and he found himself trapped listening to a tale that was more like a scary story than reality.

            "No demon hunter dies of old age. If we are not killed during one of our hunts then... Then comes the cycle. One of the best among us left a lesson every demon hunter is taught. "Rage. Hate. Fear. They all feed upon one another. A demon hunter learns how to direct hate. But such a balance is precarious. And when that balance is lost, the cycle begins: Hate begets Destruction. Destruction begets Terror as Terror begets Hate."(*) And all of us to have survived long enough to be sent on our hunts have witnessed this in those who have fought and perished before us."

            Pausing, she finally blinked and broke her stare away from the fire. Looking down to the considerably smaller selection of food, she took a strip of dried meat to chew on slowly. Kormac shook himself free of some strange spell and considered the words. However, she resumed speaking after a moment.

            "When a demon hunter loses themselves to their hatred and abandons restraint or discipline for whatever cause...they lose reason. They kill for the sheer pleasure of it, seeing everything and everyone as a target. If it moves, they will kill it. Friend, foe, demon, human, guilty, innocent. They cease to care about the dividing lines and must be destroyed."

            "That...is a truly dismal fate."

            Rolling her shoulders, she caught the cloak with one hand before it could fall far. "Perhaps. But it is what I chose. I do not delude myself with false hope that I will have anything but to meet my death taking as many demons with me as possible. Sometimes cold comfort is the better type to have."

            Kormac found himself frowning at the utter sense of wrongness in such a view. After another minute, he broke their thoughts.

            "Do you believe in the afterlife, my friend?"(1) he ventured.

            "No. Isn't this life bad enough?"(2) she replied without a moment of thought.

            The green gaze regarded her steadily. When she looked up, she saw the confusion there. The lack of understanding even though there was a clear struggle. He was trying and failing.

            "We are very different, aren't we?"(3) he finally said, sounding defeated.

            "We are both living weapons. Where you are that of Light, I am that of Dark. And the darkness knows only destruction and death. Light knows only creation and life. It is how it must be."

            Rising, she shrugged his cloak off and draped it across the table. The burn-scarring was vivid against her side as she turned to go to where her armor had been placed when they tore it free to get to her wound. Kormac found his gaze drawn to the bared waist as she moved. Strangely, the burns reminded him of something. Like an abstract picture he could not quite place. It began to nag at him. And for once he did not even have his thoughts wander toward sin, merely solving what his eyes beheld.

            When she dressed once more, he finally turned his attention to cleaning up the remainder of their food and bundling it away. His mind continued to try and solve the mystery of what the pattern reminded him of as they repacked their things. She did require some help as the new scars pulled when she tried to get her armor back on. The mail was broken but the metal-layered leather had remained intact.

            Kormac assisted her like any proper gentleman. His mind was too full of thoughts to be distracted as he often was around the enchantress. And he even missed the way her hands lingered whenever they brushed his. It slipped her notice whenever his hands lingered upon touching her or fastening the strap of her armor. Killa was already focusing on clearing her mind for the return to battle. As she checked her bow and quiver, she paused.

            "Kormac."

            The way she said his name was as powerful as if she had cracked a whip. He immediately turned to face her, listening as their eyes locked.

            "Once, you asked me to promise you something...if your sins came back to possess you."

            "I remember."

            "Now, it's come full circle." Something cold traced sharp edges up his spine, gripping his lungs briefly. "I believe that you are the only one that will be able to do this task if it comes before my hunt for Azmodan ends. Should I fall into the chaos of Cycle--"

            "You will not!" he broke in, refusing to let her ask what he knew she was going to ask. "Stop doubting yourself and have some faith like the rest of us. We believe in you. The men defending these walls and dying in the keep believe in you. No one will let you fall into that black pit. Now, let's go. We have evil to fight!"

            He almost stormed off as the hunter stood there, staring after him. It gave her no chance to ask him for his word, no chance to ask him to do the very thing he had asked of her. And it gave him no chance to admit that just the thought of it made his heart ache in a way he was unfamiliar with.

            "Light curse you, demons!" he grumbled to himself when opening the door to step into the cold once more. "You will pay for this...all of it!"


	24. Confrontation of Followers

            The fires had been lit. The catapults had been raised. The demons then attacked from below the keep, ripping their way through the bowels of the man-made fortification. Not one to sit by, Killashandra had met every challenge. Although her head still hurt as much as her side did, she fought on. The templar was with her every step. So when they finished clearing the lower levels of the demons and the foul beast named Ghom, it was he whom supported her limping figure back into the keep.

            A great commotion had risen from the wounded and healthy guards. Refugees and villagers that had sought safety within the walls watched the demon hunter make her slow way toward the corner that the group had more or less claimed as their own. Although a few of the wives of the soldiers came forward, the stench of the putrid bile clinging to the two kept them at bay. Instead, they began to heat water to have both wash up. With the close confines of the keep, the smell had to be purified immediately.

            Killa was more tired than really hurt. The limp was caused by a stitch in her healing side and the deep bruises gained from being stepped on by the disgusting blob of flesh. Kormac had his shield arm around her, gripping the uninjured side of her waist as her bent arm rested over one of his shoulders. The familiar form of the bat circled them before taking a perch up in the rafters out of the way.

            Lyndon and Eirena were immediately there, even if the scoundrel made a big production of stepping back and pinching his nose closed. Sinking down on the stool provided, the hunter almost sagged from fatigue. Kormac straightened and immediately unfastened his shield to set aside. He was going to get his armor clean. Neither said anything. It was Lyndon who stepped forward to start helping Killa remove her armor.

            The familiarity was not lost on the other two. But what surprised everyone was when Killa looked up and gave the enchantress a faint smile. "Eirena, would you help me clean up? I'll need help getting this...slime...out of my hair."

            "Of course! I would be happy to help," the girl replied as her face lit up.

            Stacking her armor aside, Lyndon considered the other three while peeling a slime-coated tunic off Killa's shoulders and back. He noticed the bile had eaten clear through most of the leather that had been exposed. Only the plate had remained whole and it was...in very poor condition as well. Leaning in, he murmured near Killa's shoulder where the other two would not hear.

            "I'll see if Haedrig has any spare for you, Killa."

            His response was another tired smile. Then--to yet another shock of the other two--she reached up with one hand to grab his vest. Even as he hesitated, she tilted her head back to steal a kiss that he immediately leaned into. There was no actual hunger or lust, their lips met and pressed together, their tongues met. But it was brief as he could tell she had little energy. Pulling back, he watched her head fall and withdrew.

            Kormac locked eyes with the scoundrel for a moment, glaring darkly. Quickly, Lyndon fled as the enchantress shook her surprise off to help the hunter up and toward the small curtained alcove that the women folk used to get clean. Already there was a tub half full of steaming water courtesy of the other women. It left the templar alone for the moment, struck by what he had seen.

            Making a decision, he followed the scoundrel. After all, he still did not trust the man. And what he had seen...meant there had better be some laws laid down quickly before he aided her further on the downfall she was so certain lay before her. In fact, as he thought about that, he realized a few other things about how the two had been treating one another. Things he had missed or paid no mind to that now made sense.

            Lyndon was already with Haedrig but that did not stop Kormac. In fact, he now had exactly what he needed to justify putting the scoundrel in his place. He waited until the thief had finished speaking with the smith and started to turn around before he moved. A bile-covered gauntlet caught Lyndon by the throat and he slammed the scoundrel's back hard against the wooden column forming one corner of Haedrig's forge.

            "I knew there was a reason you were sticking around," the templar growled as he leaned in to glare at the man's wide brown eyes. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I'm telling you this right now. If you betray Killashandra, if you hurt her, if you treat her the way you treat every other woman...I will forget that I am a templar and I will make certain it is the last thing you will ever do. Do you understand?"

            "In case you hadn't noticed, _she_ kissed **me**! Not the other way around," Lyndon managed around the hand squeezing his throat.

            It was the wrong thing to say if the narrowing of dark green eyes was any indication. Lyndon swallowed as Kormac got nose to nose with him.

            "You had something to do with it. I've been watching you. Somehow, you always manipulate things to run how you want them. But you will not play your sinful games with our friend. This entire battle is taking its toll on her and she does not need your type of distraction."

            Something changed in the scoundrel's eyes. In fact, it changed his entire persona. Kormac was unprepared for the fist that caught his jaw and sent him stumbling backward, releasing Lyndon. The second managed to catch him unprepared as the rogue pressed his advantage and actually managed to send the templar down in a clatter of armor. Then, he winced as both hands complained at the hard blows. Not that it stopped him.

            "You listen to me, Kormac," he said. When the enraged green eyes met his, Lyndon kicked the templar's arm out from under him when he went to rise, sending him back to the floor. Dropping, he reached out and shoved the armored man down. "LISTEN!"

            Kormac hesitated at this new side to the normally shady and flighty man and Lyndon again took the opportunity to glare at him.

            "You don't know Killashandra as well as you think you do. And contrary to what you've decided to believe about me, I am not going to hurt her. She has needs, Kormac! She's a woman. And she's one that knows herself. Unlike you and your utterly idiotic vows, when the needs are too great she satisfies them. And it worked. For both of us. That's it."

            Although everything inside him shouted to get up and give the scoundrel the thrashing he had been long overdue in receiving, Kormac listened. Since he had not yet been pummeled to a stain on the floor, Lyndon continued.

            "She knows what she wants and she is not afraid to get it when she wants it. That goes for needing something too. But you've been so damned blinded by your vows and your order you don't even see what is tearing her apart! You don't even listen when she tries to tell you about it! So if you have a problem with her coming to me and taking up my offer, you'd better go confront her about it because she's a big girl!"

            Rising, Lyndon thrust himself away from Kormac, still glaring. He was also ready to be pummeled but this time he did not try to sneak or run away. Not this time. And as the templar began to push himself up and climb to his feet with the aid of the post, he decided he had held his tongue long enough.

            "Do you even realize what she's doing to herself?"

            "Of course I do! This last stunt of going out alone proves that she's not thinking straight!"

            "And of course, it's my fault somehow, right? Wrong! She might be in control of her fear, Kormac, but she's tearing herself apart to stay in control."

            "What would you know about it?"

            "More than you do. You've been so obsessed in mooning like the pitiful calf you are after the lovely enchantress you haven't paid her a single moment of thought. Why do you think she really took me along in Caldeum?"

            Blinking, the templar thought back to that moment. As he thought, the dark frown grew. It had been after they encountered Eirena that suddenly Killa chose to have the scoundrel accompany her. After that, he had only caught a glimpse of her once or twice when she did return to camp for supplies or repairs only to leave again.

            "She was right. I would have been a liability in the sewers--"

            "Gah!" Lyndon exclaimed and clapped one hand over his face to viciously scrub before looking back at the dimwit. But if he just gave in and blurted out the things he had read...he knew that Kormac would never believe him. And it would betray Killa completely rather than help her out.

            "You don't need a helmet. Your skull's too thick as it is!"

            "Why you filthy coward!"

            Suddenly both found themselves thrown backward by an explosion of magic between them. They hit the floor and sprawled before glowing purple chains rose to snare both, trapping them where they had fallen. Eirena, hands raised and glowing with purple-blue, was standing there glaring at the both of them.

            "You two are behaving worse than two spoiled children! End this now, before I have to separate you. I can promise, neither of you will enjoy where I will send you either."

            "But he--" Kormac began.

            "Now!" the enchantress said sharply.

            Then, Lyndon had an idea. Looking between the two of them, he sighed.

            "Tell me something. One thing...and I'll let you kick my arse to the crater and back without protest."

            Kormac glared at him but could do little being bound as he was. Eirena had turned her attention to the scoundrel as well.

            "What would you sacrifice to save the world?"

            They were silent. Eirena was clearly thinking that over while the templar bristled.

            "Anything!"

            "Anything, Kormac?"

            "Why do you think I became a templar? Whether by my blade, my will, my blood, my pain, or my life, I will give whatever is necessary to defeat evil and bring peace!"

            Eirena was quiet, still thinking over the seriousness of the question as she studied Lyndon. This new side of the scoundrel had surprised and intrigued her. She wanted to see just how deep this new, good man went.

            "What if, to save the world, you had to live. And you had to go against everything you believed in...for it to happen?" the rogue continued with eyes locked on Kormac's.

            Puzzled, he lay there and just thought about that. "What do you mean?"

            "Would you, a warrior of the templar order, sacrifice your honor...your nobility...your...purity...to save the world from evil? Would you surrender your morals and your pride to do what must be done?"

            Now the templar was silenced as well. Lyndon was satisfied with the response and found his gaze straying to Eirena. Since they had both calmed, she relaxed and dispelled the magic chaining them down. Standing there, she was at last able to nod.

            "I think I may understand what you are trying to ask. While the Prophet trained my sisters and I to use this magic to fight the daemons, you are asking more about...what parts of myself I would give up to save the world."

            "Yes, exactly," he said as he rubbed a few spots the chains had been too tight.

            Kormac pushed himself back up to sit there and think it over. Looking to Eirena, he frowned, still not understanding. Seeing his confusion, she tapped her lower lip with one finger.

            "Kormac, if you had to sin in order to save the world...would you do it?" she finally asked.

            Eyes widening, he at last understood. Looking between the enchantress and the scoundrel, he was rendered speechless. The latter moved to rise once more, dusting himself off and straightening his garb.

            "As a demon hunter, Killa has done just that. In order to save the world, she has taken sin and used what it gave her. Look at what she has been able to accomplish. If she needs to indulge her darkness from time to time to remain in control and remain sane...then how can I not accept it? How can I not give something in return for that sacrifice."

            "That is the true nature of what it means to sacrifice. Something no cultist or daemon-follower could possibly understand."

            Lyndon nodded and bowed to Eirena.

            "I gave up my life and all I knew to follow the Prophet," she continued. "But even before that, as a servant, I understood and accepted I would also have to...give up my purity and parts of myself in order to ensure my world and that of my sisters would be saved. None of us remained pure for long, but it did save our lives in the end. From what I understand, this is considered sin as well. But I do not regret committing it. It has brought me to this time to fulfill a greater purpose. Saving the world and all within it from destruction."

            Noticing the clear distress, the scoundrel moved over to give the enchantress a hug. For once, there was no reaction from Kormac. He saw the hug for what it was: comfort. And sitting there, he found that although he could have answered the question, he was not certain if he was able to do anything that Eirena was describing.

            "Think about it, Kormac. Once she's bathed, fed, and re-armored I'm certain she will push forward again. And we'll need to know if you're going to go with her or not, so that I can get ready to go if you aren't," Lyndon said before turning to walk away, heading for their bedrolls and his things.

            Eirena stepped forward and offered her hand to the man. Flushing, Kormac cleared his throat and shook his head before slowly getting his armored body back up onto his feet. Seeing no insult in his refusal, she smiled gently at him. Then her nose wrinkled. "Perhaps you should wash as well. I fear you truly stink more than she did."

            He only nodded and turned to move after Lyndon. Although the scoundrel was alert and kept an eye on him, the templar found all desire to lay into him had fled. There was too much for him to think about as he set to cleaning his armor and finding clothes that were not half-dissolved to wear beneath it.


	25. Thief's Education Method

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three paragraphs are taken from the Diablo 3 wiki site--the one by Tyrael is taken from the game, one of the talks he has with the player concerning the creation of the world.

            _"And, alas, we are of our fathers and mothers, alike and yet opposite, one decay and the other light. Indeed, the union of angel and demon created a third essence. And we are those children. We are the nephalem. We exist as half angel and half demon, yet fully a new entity. And because of our lineage, they loved us. And because of our difference, they feared us. Within the trembling balance between love and fear is the relation of us to our fathers and mothers." ~ taken from Cain's journal by Lyndon._

_"To escape the Eternal Conflict, a group of renegade angels and demons came together and created a hidden paradise for themselves. They called this world Sanctuary. Eventually, they commingled. They gave birth to mankind. That is why you have both good and evil within you...and the power of both realms as your birthright. The power of your nephalem ancestors was so terrifying to their parents that they tuned the Worldstone to weaken them. They knew they had loosed something...unimaginable upon creation." ~ information given by Tyrael._

_"They call themselves the demon hunters, a group of fanatical warriors sworn to a single purpose: the destruction of the creatures of the Burning Hells. The demon hunters number in the hundreds and make their home in the Dreadlands so that they can live and train without the interference of any nation that would worry over having such a fearsome group camped within its borders. Though at any time over half are dispatched across the world seeking hellspawn. There is something in all demon hunters that gives them the strength to resist the demonic corruption that would drive lesser men to madness. They hone this power, for their resistance to this taint enables them to use the demons' power as a weapon. But their mission and their power are not all that bind them together." ~ found in a book from the great library at Caldeum, written by Abd al-Hazir._

_For all this combined information, I only now think I see what is happening to me. The former angel, Tyrael, spoke with me in the desert near Caldeum about these things. He assured me that no human could be turned into a demon, just as it was impossible for one to become an angel. Simply because there was no way to separate the two halves of the nature that created us. I think I wrote previously that I know too well that it is nearly impossible to see the difference between the darkest shade of gray and the black beside it. As for the opposite, that much I believe. No human could become an angel. Not a single one would ever be able to destroy the darkness within their natures._

_But I am not human, am I? I am something else. A throwback. A reversion to something pre-dating humans. A nephalem. And my powers are growing every passing day. I have no clue just what I can do or how strong I have become. The demons I face are weak things that provide no challenge for me to test this. And because I am not human, I wonder if Tyrael might have misspoken. He told me of humans when he said that they could not become demon or angel. He did not mention nephalem. One thing I have learned in my years hunting demons is that so much as one word misspoken can lead to disaster._

            _For almost twenty years I have fought demons with the darkness they cursed me with. In all that time I used their "gift" to do as much good as I could. Even in saving one life or sparing one child from my own pain I do the work of good. And now the greatest hunt lies before me. The remaining demon lords of hell. My task to destroy them is within my reach. And I am faltering. My hatred burns within me so hot that at times I could swear it bleeds into the very air around me. My rage is fast and consuming. Even in the cold of the lands around Arreat Crater, I barely feel the chill. When I do, it is soothing rather than biting._

_It has even come to the point where I can feel the end of my hunt drawing near. There is still chaos in my mind and heart. Hatred and rage are too swift to possess me. Lust...I still lust but, I no longer feel the shame in it I did only a few weeks ago. Or was it a month? Even the sense of time has slipped from my grasp. All that matters is my next kill, the next demon. Something tells me that a few of the bodies left on the battlements might have fallen to me instead of the demon archers I brought down. But...even that realization only leaves a tired ache within me now rather than the horror of before._

_Lyndon. Eirena. Kormac. Tyrael. Leah. Adria. The witch still makes me wary. But she has been isolated with Leah and Tyrael while I have been on the lines slaughtering hellspawn. That wariness no longer seems to matter. I will leave her to Tyrael and the others. I will leave all of them to their own paths. Mine will end soon. I pray that it will not end before I silence Azmodan once and for all. And if I must become a demon to destroy him, I shall. In the end, it will be the same. I will die. Whether it is by the demons or by the hand of one of my friends, it only matters that I hurt no one else when the time comes._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Lyndon swallowed hard before tearing his eyes away from the open journal. Quickly and quietly, he gave his eyes a dash from his sleeve and looked to the one holding the book open. Kormac was staring at the words on the last page. The templar had plenty of time to read them, but he sat there as the scoundrel waited silently.

            "Why did you give me this?" Kormac finally asked.

            "Would you have believed me if I just told you?"

            The templar was silent. It was answer enough for both of them. The green eyes moved over the written words once more before he returned to staring at the page unseeing. Lyndon glanced up quickly to make sure they were still alone. Killa had gone to see Haedrig about her replacement armor a little while ago and Eirena was tending some of the newly retrieved injured. Neither had come back yet but if Kormac delayed much longer they would be discovered.

            "And this is what has been tearing her apart? How could she think that she has anything in common with a demon let alone become one?"

            "Well, you could always ask her. But then she'd know you read her private journal. How honorable is that for a templar?"

            Tensing, Kormac shot a dark glare toward the scoundrel. Lyndon merely gave an exaggerated shrug.

            "The point is, now you have an idea about just what is making her act this way. She never would have told you herself."

            "Why not? Why would she not tell me such things after all she's helped me through? I owe her more than just my service--look at what she's done, where she's brought us. We're but a stone's throw away from hell itself! How could she...she..."

            Working on the inside of his cheek, Lyndon shrugged. "If you wanted to read some of the first entries, maybe you'd learn. But this is the only one that I think you want to see. After all, you're hopeless with talking to women let alone understanding them."

            Another glare, but Kormac did not rise to the prodding. Instead, he looked back to the journal. He had only read the last entry. More pages beckoned him from the start of the book. It was in his hands. He could look and see into Killa's thoughts and fears. That made him tense and slowly close the journal. It was disrespectful. Perhaps he could live with invading her privacy this much because the last entry contained more information than personal thoughts.

            "Put it back. Exactly where you found it. Now. And we will not speak of this again."

            "Oh, keeping secrets now are we? How noble for a templar!" Lyndon jabbed. But he took the journal back and turned to go as ordered. It left Kormac to his thoughts once more. They were not light ones.


	26. Back Into the Fray

            Killashandra had to admit that Haedrig's promise about his skills was no idle boast. His armor thus far had outlasted most of what her typical gear would have and although each piece was eventually ruined through her struggles, the next pieces he made improved. So too did his newest work as she finished fastening the last piece in place and turned her attention to taking in the full view.

            There were more plates of metal over leather, almost completely embracing her body. Each one was able to interlock and shift with her. Metal embraced her ribs and sides in a sharper semblance of the bones beneath save it layered to leave no gaps. Likewise metal guarded her upper and lower arms and thighs. The shoulder armor bore curved spikes in a single line for protection while the arm-shield for her bow arm mirrored the spiked design along the outer edge. The bracer on the other arm was a smaller version without the shield.

            After the success of the last boots, Haedrig had made the new ones in the same design with talons protecting the slight raise of the heel and encasing the toes for her traction. Small shields curved about either side of her knees and projected up along her thighs. Mail that looked far stronger than the last undercoat protected every joint and much of her upper thighs so she could crouch and move without metal impeding her.

            It was truly impressive. But the color was what truly struck her. The armor was of a rich fire-red edged in black as if charred by flame. The mail was also black to make the red-gold plates stand out. Combined with a hood of mail surrounded by red cloth, weighted along the top of her skull and about the face, the armor made her look as she was supposed to look: a hunter of demons. What she could not see was that her eyes glowed the same fiery orange color beneath the shadow cast by the hood.

            "This is...quite acceptable, Haedrig. But...why red?"

            "Ah, because that's the colors of the keep ya fight for. There's been enough guards pass through it seemed only fittin'. That and, it suits you. Makes the men see that the one that gave them hope will keep fighting for them. They'll continue to hold the demon horde back. So why not honor their sacrifice?"

            She smiled as she drew the heavy mail-cloth mask up to secure it over her lower face. It would protect from the frigid wind as well as ensure additional protection. "You really are a sentimental one, blacksmith. I'm honored. And I'm certain this will serve me well."

            "Bah!" he gruffly waved her thanks off and turned away. "Just go kill those bloody demons. And remind 'em why it's a mistake to bother us."

            Chuckling at the smith, she bowed her head and retreated. The armor moved a bit differently than she was used to. It felt...more like a second skin. It moved as it was supposed to move and filled her with an even stronger sense of power. For a moment she found herself wondering if perhaps Haedrig did not have a little magic of his own for such creations.

            He had even replaced her bow with another that felt stronger. Testing the string, she found more tension. It was harder to draw but of no challenge for her. Yes, it would serve her well. Quivers filled with arrows and ready for use, Killa felt more ready for her final battle than she ever had upon any other hunt. She was aware of darkness and hatred seething within, waiting to be unleashed. And there was the feeling of finality quickly approaching.

            "Lyndon, are you ready?" she called as she made her way back to the corner they were sequestered in.

            To her mild surprise, there was only one person there.

            "He is helping Eirena with the wounded, hunter. I will be your shield once more," Kormac said as he pulled his helmet on and fastened it in place.

            Pausing at the top of the shallow stairs, she regarded him. And for once, she noticed the attention was mutual. She had not taken much time to really study him or his armor before. The plate was heavy and added to his bulk. Primarily silver, it was gilded in bronze. The design was simple without any embellishment save for touches of blue layered beneath for insulation against the cold.

            His shield was nearly white in comparison and had the most artistry about it bearing an antiquated bronze cross for reinforcement and edged in thick bronze bars. A single blue-tinted stone rested at the heart of the cross and flashed in the light when he moved. It matched several smaller stones set into the cover of his prized holy tome chained to his belt. He had never shown her what rested within its pages and she had never been curious enough to ask.

            "Haedrig does...impressive work."

            "That is what I told him."

            Kormac smiled at that before starting to tuck a scarf around the lower portion of his helmet. Even with his heavy armor, he still felt the cold more keenly than she did and had finally stopped trying to pretend it did not affect him. It was one small step in a better direction so she never made anything of the change.

            "Very well then. Are you ready?"

            His answer was to strike the shield on his arm with his free fist. The sound was a sharp crack of thunder. Unbeknownst to him, it was the same salute that she had seen before used by the barbarians that she had often come across in the Dreadlands. It made her smile and relax at the nostalgic familiarity.

            Nodding, she moved toward the gates. The guards they passed--wounded and healthy--watched and most snapped to attention as they passed. She paid them no mind, focusing herself on the task ahead. The battlefields called and they were going to answer in such a way they would be silenced. Perhaps not forever, but for a long time to come after she had departed.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The last of the ballistae had fallen. The field had been almost completely cleared of demons when Azmodan ordered them to find and kill her. Stop her. They failed. Tyrael met them and the handful of scattered soldiers that had been rescued on the bridge. The small troop formed up quickly to hold the bridge and along with Tyrael they pressed on. Not even the siegebreaker posed much of an obstacle, although at last Killa found a hint of a challenge.

            So focused on the next demon, she missed the concerned look exchanged between Kormac and Tyrael before the ex-angel left with Adria to ensure Leah remained in control of the black soulstone. That, and he claimed it was Killa's task to destroy the Sin Hearts. In truth, he saw in her eyes something he had seen many times before...in the eyes of his enemies in Pandemonium. Kormac could only follow her through the gate as her prior attempt to make him swear to kill her plagued his mind.


	27. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After doing extensive reading and research for the material you'll read in this chapter, I have found nothing provided by Blizzard itself, only theory-craft posted by those playing the game. With the lore pretty much left open--and my lack of knowledge on any Diablo content prior to Diablo 3--I will be exercising some artistic freedoms concerning the Towers part of the act.

            The floor was almost as soft as...well, not even snow underfoot. Snow had give but was solid. As they moved further into the crater's gateway, the floor became distinctly...leather like. It drew Killashandra's attention as she walked along. There were no stairs, just a strange ramp that looked like...skin stretched over skeletal ribs. Not overly surprising since it was the stuff of nightmare. It was tough enough that even jabbing it with her heel did not damage it.

            Satisfied the way was safe to proceed, she moved forward. Although one arrow was already notched and ready, she drew a second on a strange feeling. Once it was ready the feeling faded. Although it was dark below, there was no need to use the wizard-light. Fires shimmered and glowed both faintly and quite intensely around them. Kormac stuck close on her heels without stepping on them or impeding her.

            "This place is an abomination!"(1) he said as he, too, examined what they walked over. "The ground is yielding like flesh. This does not bode well."(2)

            "Anything concerning demons rarely does."

            Reaching the bottom of the ramp, they moved onto a slightly more stable floor. The ground was still the same material but there were fewer bones beneath it save areas to shape it. Kormac focused on the darkness around them as his eyes adjusted to the firelight. It shone crimson gold from the hunter's armor in some places but the rest of it blended in without giving hint to her pose.

            "You've killed one of my playthings..." came an extremely sultry voice that flowed along the nerves like rich chocolate and made them both freeze, turning back to back. "Now you have my undivided attention."(3)

            "I don't like the sound of this demon wench,"(4) Kormac muttered.           

            Killa said nothing. Giving him a nudge with her elbow, she proceeded forward. Now she knew for certain that they were being watched. Her hunt had progressed to another level at long last. Now...it was a game. And she had no intention of losing. Not even when she saw the boiling mass of darkness and flashing firelight off weapons. They were boiling toward her and she grinned as she took aim.

            "Templar!"

            Turning, he immediately moved around her. The great shield came down in front of him as he secured his footing and braced. Dropping to one knee, the hunter leaned behind the barrier as the first wave of flame and magic struck the metal. Several larger impacts made the shield ring as the leading tormented stingers struck it. Screeching cries of pain rose as the spells of the demons behind them caught them instead of the two they aimed for.

            Ducking around the edge of the shield, Killa opened fire. Kormac remained braced as a living shield for another moment or two. Wrenching it free of the strange floor, he charged forward with sword drawn to crash into the midst of their enemies. For the next few minutes the only sounds either knew were demonic screams of pain and the din of battle. Fire roared around them and they did not hear it.

            When the last firemage fell before the hunter's arrows, they had a moment to catch their breath. Kormac used the scarf that had fallen loosely about his throat to mop at the sweat soaking his face. It was futile but it did serve to mop the stinging liquid out of his eyes once more. Then, both were nearly blinded by a flaming image erupting before them. Shield rising, the templar shielded the hunter without blocking her aim.

            "Nephalem," Azmodan's swollen visage said as it hovered before them. "Your misbegotten kind is creation's greatest sin! But your time is done. You will find only death in my realm."(5)

            "I do not find death, Azmodan. I bring it with me!" she shouted back as the fire in her eyes flared. The vision faded without any hint of the laughter that had accompanied it previously.

            "We must head deeper!"(6) Kormac said.

            "Let's go," was her only reply as she made her way through the corpses and further into the darkness.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The sudden end of the leathery ground made them both stumble in surprise. But the unforgiving presence of stone was again under their boots as they emerged from the foul passage into a great chasm. The ceiling--if there even was one--was concealed in a gloomy haze. To either side of the stairs was an endless drop. And there was something in that void that left the hunter and the templar staring to try and comprehend what they saw.

            Giants. They were little more than flesh over bones. And the flesh burned like live embers, or like meat that had been roasted too long in fire. Their great, skeletal limbs were twisted around their tortured bodies and pinned by huge spikes driven through their palms into their flesh. The skeletal heads were bound in different masks of metal secured by great shafts piercing the eye sockets, slicing and pulling the flesh away from their teeth. Some were gagged as others had only a metal bar stretched between exposed teeth.

            All were chained like living columns around the tower and stone paths. In the cavernous expanse, their moaning cries of agony were somehow muffled like nothing either of the two had ever heard before. The stench of burned flesh and agony was thick upon the air along with the choking presence of despair. Kormac felt almost light-headed as he stared at the horror before him, all blood draining from his face beneath the helm. Beside him, the hunter stood silent in her own observations.

            "By the Light, what are these creatures? Are these demons?"

            "I do not know. This place is too dark for me to sense anything but corruption. Come, we must continue. Our task does not include these things, regardless of what they are."

            It took the templar a few tries to get his feet to obey the commands of his brain. By that time, Killa had already moved further down the wide, shallow stairs toward one of the stone paths circling the tower itself.

            "These poor things live in eternal torment,"(7) came that rich, beautiful voice once more.

            Although her head rose to signal she heard, Killa did not stop. Kormac chose to follow her lead and keep moving as well. His eyes searched for the source of the voice. Because he was searching, he saw the first horde of brutes heading directly for them. Hefting his shield, he focused on the charging demons even as the hunter began to fire upon them. Neither forgot the steep drops to either side of the wide path they stood upon so they kept close during the conflict.

            Demons fell before them or flew over the sides, screaming into the void as they vanished into the haze below. Not once did the hunter's aim waver. She did not stop. And Kormac again felt awe in watching her fight. While he could keep them busy, she was the one that brought them down. Every so often, one of their attackers would realize it too. A charge from the templar either sent them flying over the edge or pulled their focus back to him an instant before they died from hungering bolts.

            "I feast on their agony. Their eternal anguish,"(8) the voice came again, sounding much closer. But there was only gloom and nothing nearby.

            Nevertheless, Killa paused and scanned the gloom with glowing, narrowed eyes. Kormac noticed her distraction and readied himself for another attack, straining to get his eyes to focus through the growing heat. A strange hiss was on the air like something was drawing a breath. The heat increased as a few golden embers spiraled around them suddenly. Without warning, the hunter spun and slammed into the templar, sending them both flying to the side just as a demonic carving opened its maw to spew a jet of flame where they had been standing.

            Picking herself up, Killa merely notched another arrow and moved on. Kormac was left to rise on his own. Adrenaline from the near-miss served to aid him in his haste and he jogged the short distance to catch up with the demonic figure. As they followed the circular paths to another set of stairs leading downward, he found himself panting far more heavily than he should have. Still, Killa appeared entirely unaffected. Not even a drop of sweat glistened on her face.

            While she was likely not possessed by a demon, she was possessed with her hunt. All her burning eyes showed was that focus and her hatred. As they passed into a dark passage to descend further, her eyes lit their way as if they were small pools of fire. And everything he had read came back to him. Trying to moisten parched lips, he swallowed. Even if he had refused to let her ask him to kill her, it hung over his head along with the knowledge that he may have no other choice in the end. An end that was approaching as quickly as the light at the end of the passage they moved through.


	28. Slipping

            The darkness bled with dim light ahead. The passage was short enough. When they arrived at its end, she did not stop to look around. Moving forward as the heat and ambient of torment embraced her once more, Killashandra only paid a quick scan to their surroundings. However, there was no sign of ambush or attack just yet. The stairs here were not quite as worn and had sharper edges. Either few passed this deep or what did pass did not always require the steps.

            Shutting out the groaning from the giants as best as she could, she trained all her senses on stabbing through the dark taint filling the very air around them. It served to make her quite aware of the one source of purity and light not three feet away from her back. Every step he made was heavy and solid. She could hear his harsh breathing, feel it as if it were beating against her bared back. And for a moment her focus became the man behind her so she could hear his steady heartbeat.

            Only now did she understand the grave mistake she had made in coming here. But she was too far gone in the hunt to care about mistakes. A swarm of tormented stingers was coming. Crouching on the stairs, she drew her bow and loosed her arrows into their midst. Here, right before her, was proof her concerns were not baseless. These demonic things had at one time been human. Their bodies twisted and broken by the demons they were sacrificed to, corrupted and empowered. Now they were demons as well. How she knew this...she did not care.

            It would not be her fate! A new surge of hatred caused her arrows to burst into flame, breaking apart to drive deep into the swarm and devour them from the inside. The screeching cries of agony and their own anger and fear made her smile in the shadows of her hood. She said nothing, but in her mind she was laughing. It felt so good to return the pain these beasts had caused her, caused all humans they mutilated, attacked, murdered, tortured. The dark fire was raging higher inside her.

            "Your presence...pleases me. Every step brings you closer to my embrace,"(1) came the sultry voice again.

            Although she knew it was meant to be seductive, enticing, it brushed over her without more than making her notice just how heavy the power within it was. She felt the weight of the power against her but it was unable to touch her. It did, however, touch the presence of light behind her. Pausing, she felt the dark caress stroke over his aura as if she could see it within her very mind. Anger surged as she turned to look to Kormac.

            He had frozen, eyes wide behind the slit of his helmet. Although he shook himself free of the magic the disembodied voice was weaving, her anger grew. Light flared as he began to murmur to himself and her anger did fade--minimally. He was still resisting. And this time she chose to ignore the dark thing twisting inside her. She had something to kill now. And that voice would be silenced.

            Suddenly there was a screech from above and to the side where two stone paths rested in mere yards from one another. Spinning around, the hunter saw several...women coming toward them. But they were not women. Their milky white flesh was flawless, their breasts and bodies bare. Their legs and arms were kissed with a familiar shade of purple-pink melting into black about their hooved feet and clawed hands. Blackish purple hair was held out of their faces by curling ram's horns and great bat-like wings came from their backs.

            Eyes narrowing, she loosed the first bolt at the one diving at them from above. She shrieked with the red-laced arrow struck her abdomen. Black spread outward as the succubus thrashed in the air, flight interrupted as agony set in. She tried to rip the bolt free only to have it crumble to charcoal and embers in her grasp. And still the thing devoured her insides like a hungry beast as her hair and wings burst into flame.

            Her fate went ignored by the hunter as she darted forward for a clear shot across the divide at the others that were coming for them. Several twisted, burning things scampered up over the edges of the pathways to join them. These blazing ghouls were faster and almost frenzied compared to the succubi. They became her primary targets as her arrows drove one back and scattered the other two.

            "Your screams of anguish will sound so sweet."(2)

            A sense of trouble made her spin toward the new voice. It came from the direction of the light at her back. Even as she loosed another arrow to send the ghoul leaping at her flying over the edge in an explosion of burning flesh, she saw Kormac frozen upon one knee. But the succubus that had tackled him from behind had forced his head around and gotten close enough to kiss him through the opening of his helmet.

            Rage consumed her as she bolted forward. She did not fire another shot. Rather, she left the bow in her hand as the other drew a symbol in the air. The succubus screamed as a fire-tainted black wolf leapt on her, capturing her neck between powerful jaws. Bone crunched as the beast's unnatural claws raked multiple furrows deep into her back as if trying to gut her from behind. She released Kormac and Killa was suddenly right there between them, shoving one of the daggers she used to ward off close attacks down above the demon's ribs into her heart.

            The force was so strong her hand followed the blade into the flesh, slamming into the succubus's chest and forcing her backward. Screaming, the demon thrashed. The wolf sprang away and the hunter brought one foot up to press against a voluptuous hip and shove the dying body off her hand and over the edge. For just a moment, there was a cooling note of satisfaction cooling her rage.

            "Oh, you've met my daughters, I see. Are you enjoying their company?"(3) the voice asked again, sounding closer.

            Spitting to the side, Killa merely turned to the remaining demons and ignored a darker desire to take Kormac's mouth and purge it from the foul kiss he had been given. The inner war consumed any part of her not focused on the death to spread in this fight. So she did not notice Kormac's shocked and incredulous look on her back. He did not stand idle for more than a second before using the scarf to scrub the sensation of those full, soft lips from his own, grimacing at the thought of what had given him the kiss.

            "The next time Haedrig makes me a helmet, it's going to have a closed face-guard," he snarled to an unresponsive hunter.

            Even though she returned to the fight, one of her guards had slipped. Unconsciously, she was listening to the agonized moans of the giants around them. They purred their torment to her in ways that made her grow warmer. That thrilling tingle grew. Only it was not just from her loins. It filled her entire body as she listened...savored. The scent of demon blood, feeling it when it managed to seep through the mail of her glove and touch the leather that was almost like her bare skin...it was beginning to affect everything but her thirst for death.

            Their way was suddenly clear and the red faded from her vision. Scanning for any signs of further attack, the hunter moved forward again. Power flooded through her, surging stronger with every gliding step, every slow turn of her head. It bled from her to distort the shadows closest her body. Kormac noticed the odd reactions, readied for an attack. But the shadows returned to being shadows after the hunter had passed. Her wolf had vanished the moment they were out of battle.

            Again, the words he had read returned to his mind to torment him. Lyndon's voice--and Eirena's--entered his thoughts and he once more found he was wondering about the question that they had both asked. What was he willing to sacrifice to make certain the world was saved? What could he sacrifice beyond his life and service? The hunter was prepared and apparently certain the quest would take her life. How could that not be the greatest sacrifice given? It would deprive the world of the greatest hero to walk upon it in an age.

            "It has been some time since I've had the pleasures of a templar in these halls," came the voice again. "All this light from him, so pure, so bright...so tempting."

            One of the giants chained near their current position on the pathways groaned. The sound trailed off like a growl. No, it was a growl. But it did not come from the giant, it came from the hunter. Lips peeled away from teeth, she snarled at the unseen source of the voice. Another type of sensation rose and spread through her chest rather than from below. Part of her identified it with ease before she shoved it away to keep focusing her hatred and rage. Possession.

            Pushing forward without looking back or scanning for more trouble, Killashandra followed the voice. She was positive it was now close enough to be coming from a direction. Kormac struggled to keep up with her as she moved faster, forgetting her caution for lust of the kill. A shallow set of steps connected the end of their path to the one above and she turned toward it only to see a shimmer in the air that was not caused by heat.

            Uttering a curse under her breath, her free hand fell to her belt. The caltrops were freed and set in a wide sweep of her arm. Just as suddenly, the wolf was there on the path above and leaping for something with a snarl. Like a rabid beast it landed on the air and ripped into something that bled. The hulking phasebeast was revealed as another appeared, howling in pain when it stepped into a waiting trap.

            Kormac started to charge forward only to slam into solid air. A third phasebeast was revealed before him and he altered his attack to it instead. The hunter had the fourth already revealed by spinning to unleash a rapid volley of arrows behind her and break the spell cloaking the creature. She missed the smaller forms of several soul lashers bounding amongst the large demons to spring their own attack.

            Weight struck her back and triggered one of the traps she had shown Haedrig how to set up within her armor specifically for attacks from behind. Knives suddenly exploded in a ring around her body. They struck the flayer and sent it flying backward. Twisting, she fired a bolt into the pincushion's slathering jaws. Its skull exploded and she returned her focus to the phasebeasts. Most had already been taunted to face Kormac so she selected another lasher to hit.

            Suddenly, two of the beasts vanished. As another lasher managed to get past her guard and wrap its slimy tongue around her head, there was a dark, large presence at her back. Her free arm rose and she used the spikes on the bracer to slice through the tongue blinding her. Whirling, she started to aim when one massive arm struck her hard enough to send her flying. Thankfully, her motion saved her from being struck by one of the glaives fused to the beast's limb.

            Releasing her arrow, it split into two and arced through the air to bury both halves into the skull to either side of the glaive-burdened head. The beast howled as it fell. But its attack had thrown the hunter over the edge of the stone path and over the void. Kormac had a moment to see her flying form before she fell out of sight.

            "SHANDRA!"

            Light exploded from him as a new fury filled him. Suddenly the demons before him were nothing as light flashed along his sword, flared from the crystal upon his shield. Blinded, howling in pain from the sudden holy righteousness in his attacks, the demons fell back. He crushed the skull of one phasebeast and caught the tongue of the lasher seeking his face. Jerking it, he yanked the smaller demon off its four limbs and snared the remaining beast's legs with it.

            In three more blows, the demons were dead. The templar charged for the edge of the path, knowing it was already too late, but unable to help himself. Skidding to a stop and almost going over himself, he went to one knee to prevent following her. The shield rang as he dropped its base to the stone for support and leaned down. While he did not expect to see her--he was surprised by the sudden rearing of one of the giants.

            Scrambling to throw himself backward, he saw the huge metal mask fused to the thing's upper face rise like some unholy tower, filling his sight. Blood was smeared over the almost shield-like rises of metal. The broken and bared teeth were blackened as fire burned within its mouth. Now he could see up close the great bands of metal peeling its lips back from its teeth. They pierced through the jaw and flesh alike to bind the mouth open.

            He almost winced as he heard joints pop and flesh tear. The giant released a moaning howl but continued to stretch its body against the barbed chains binding it. The great head bowed forward. Metal slammed against stone with deafening force. Just as he started to wonder how he could hope to fight this monstrous thing, something leapt up from behind the great metal bulwark sealing its eyes away. The shadow landed in a crouch on the path as the giant sank back down, giving into the unforgiving pull of its chains.

            Panting heavily, Killashandra lifted her head. Anything Kormac might have said fled his senses the moment those burning eyes found his. They were crimson and gold. In them he saw hatred and rage--no, fury--along with a darkness that made his chest seize and stole his breath. It was his sudden heartbeat she heard. Those green eyes were wide with shock and seeing only her. That was more than enough as she began to prowl forward toward him.

            She could hear the harsh breathing, feel the sudden surge of heartbeat, smell him. Oh, and he smelled so good. A mix of metal, sweat, blood, and sunshine. Beneath it all was that maleness she could nearly taste. Nearly...and about to finally taste fully. Her hand rose to grip the chest piece where it curved beneath his throat. Jerking him up, she watched his eyes widen with a spark of something that sent a jolt of desire through her.

            Just as her other hand found the fastenings to his helmet, he took a sharp breath. Shoving the metal thing off, it fell to bounce loudly over the stone. His hair was black with sweat, matted to his head and face. There were smudges of soot and ash on his forehead and cheeks. Sweat still glistened on his skin as she leaned in. One of his hands rose to grip her arm just beneath the armor of her shoulder.

            "Say it again, templar."

            Confusion pushed away that indescribable something in his eyes. "What?"

            "Say my name again."

            "Killa--"

            "No! My. Name."

            Swallowing hard, heartbeat racing, Kormac struggled to remember what he had said. Then it clicked. But he had to stop this--whatever it was. Already he was regaining himself and his control. But not quite fast enough.

            "Shandra."

            Her mouth claimed his. For a split second he froze. Then, the sensation almost floored him. Her lips were not soft. They were not sweet. They were not gentle. She fell upon his mouth like a starving creature as her tongue invaded his in a way that the demon had not been able to due to his helmet's limited access. No, where the demon had carried a soft, sweet, almost cloying presence, the hunter was fire and shadow. He tasted her sweat and something metallic, blood, then her flesh.

            "You're an extraordinary one, aren't you?"(4) came an unwelcome voice.

            Killa broke back with a vicious snarl. How dare that demon interrupt her! This was her--she snapped out of the trail her thoughts were going down. Blinking, the hunter remembered herself and the light in her eyes returned to orange. She chose to ignore what had just happened, just as she ignored the realization enter Kormac's eyes about the encounter. But she was already withdrawing, standing, refusing to look at him any longer so she would not see the shame or recrimination he would have.

            "I have never seen one of them ever respond to anyone else. The poor thing...it nearly tore itself apart to obey your desires."

            Still, the hunter said nothing as she retrieved her bow from her back and notched an arrow. Without a target, she could only fume and move forward again. Kormac retrieved his helmet and pulled it on hastily. His lips still burned with her kiss as he grabbed shield and sword to hurry after her. If he had doubted she was really losing herself before, all doubts had just been removed.

            It did not help him to forget the tingling still remaining upon his lips or her flavor in his mouth. Shivering suddenly despite the sweltering heat, he realized that even just that kiss had nearly made him break his vows. If he had, it would have made him no better than Lyndon. Thinking about the scoundrel, the question again echoed in his mind. And as his eyes were drawn unbidden to the hunter prowling ahead of him, he began to understand. Because he had been returning her kiss...


	29. Temptation and Possession

            His taste filled her mouth. His scent consumed everything else. She could no longer smell the blood or flames, the burnt flesh upon the air. Every time she swallowed his flavor was again on her tongue so that she could not even taste her own blood where she had bitten the insides of her mouth upon landing so sharply atop the giant's head. Only it was no longer easy to stop thinking about him, next to impossible to lock it away as she had before.

            Especially not when it seemed that every attack afterward focused on him instead of her. Oh, the phasebeasts still charged her first. But the succubi that kept popping up were always going straight for him. It was making her start to loose control. Tearing herself apart with resisting the urges to just stop and take him, taste him again, make him scream for her as the giants screamed their agony to the demoness taunting them...

            She almost missed the surge of ghouls leaping up from either side of the path to ambush them. One landed a very solid blow against her chest before she purposely triggered a caltrop directly on its back. The thing screamed as the trap embedded its spikes straight through it, piercing the bony chest and severing the hip from the body. Kicking it away, her arrow ended its torment.

            Kormac was utterly silent. She let him keep his silence, ignoring the part of her that wanted to hear him make a sound. As she fired another arrow, she paused at the view before her. He was turning away to give her the sight of his back while raining blows on the demons attacking him. And for that split second, she saw him in the desert again, bound to the rock before her, back waiting for the bite of her lash...

            Sucking a sharp breath, she shuddered as wetness mocked her between her legs. She felt empty suddenly, hollow and aching in a way that had not tormented her for years. Not since before she had satisfied her lust with Lyndon. Even trying to fill her mind with images of the thief bound beneath her, arching upward to try and satisfy her...it made things worse because every time she would see the templar instead of the thief.

            "Hunter?"

            His voice snapped her out of thought and she blinked. Aware that not only had she been staring, she had been lost in her mind, she just snorted. "I was listening for something."

            It was a lie. But he said nothing and just followed her onward. Every step was making that growing wetness, the throbbing need coiling inside her worse. There was no way she could hope to ignore it since his presence continued to taunt her heightened senses. Not even her hatred seemed able to touch upon it which made her angry. Glaring at the air, she pushed forward, wanting blood in the vain hope it would satisfy the hunger eating her from within.

            "All the pain and suffering you're enduring... You must be dying to meet me."(1)

            "Hold your tongue, demon!"(2) Kormac snarled.

            Heart pounding, Killa fought away from the images assaulting her. Making herself look around, she kept tension in the bowstring as her hand uncurled slowly then returned to the bow to steady her grip. She was unaware of how the fingers gripping the arrow's shaft were idly stroking the wood and feathers in small motions.

            But there, ahead of them...at last she saw their goal. A giant heart rested in the center of a stone platform. It glowed orange like a heart of fire and pulsed. The pulse was almost deafening to her, as if she were watching her own heart beating with the monstrosity. Where it should have had large veins at the top of the fist-shape, they were mobile tendrils waving and snaking over the heart like tentacles caressing a gorged body.

            "You are so eager...I suppose I should introduce myself."(3)

            Kormac was suddenly so close that he was all but pressing against her. The hunter was aware at that same moment just where the voice had come from as well as why the templar had pressed close. From somewhere in the haze above, the demoness descended upon a web spun as she came to alight gracefully upon the path before them. The moment her spider's legs touched the stone a dome of transparent magic rose to encase the heart in a wall of protection.

            Eyes narrowed, she glared at the half-woman, half-spider that had revealed herself before them. While the woman's body was beautiful in its pale, moon-kissed skin with perfectly rounded breasts sporting only a minimal covering over her nipples, the spider's body was grotesque. Her long legs in front were a mix of human and spider as shapely thighs merged with spidery shell above the knees and offered only glimpses of her shins and calves before ending in dagger-like claws.

            "I am Cydaea, Maiden of Lust--consort of Azmodan,"(4) she said as she bowed her head and swept her human arms out as if she were curtsying.

            Suddenly, Killa was aware of another heartbeat. It was rapid against her back as a small shudder vibrated through the metal armor pressed close. Remembering his fear of spiders, a surge of protectiveness rose in the hunter and she brought her bow up to fire. The suddenness of the action caused the demon to spring backwards and land atop the crystal dome shielding the sin heart.

            "Why are you trying to hurt me?"(5) came the pouty question as Cydaea moved a little more to one side. "You're different than the rest...so powerful...so dark..."

            Growling, Killa moved forward, pulled away from Kormac as she tried to get a clear shot. The arrows that struck the shield merely bounced off, ricocheting away without harming the barrier. And Cydaea used it to her advantage as they circled one another. A thought from the hunter and the fire-touched shadow of the wolf was suddenly at Kormac's side to protect him as the two women circled one another.

            "You're so close now, I can almost feel your breath on my skin."(6)

            Rage building, Killa ceased circling the heart and ran toward it. Springing into the air, she vaulted up to land atop the shield as well. It rang like a giant bell when her boots struck it and the pulse of sound sent a sharp sensation through her. Gasping in surprise, it did not prevent her from losing two more arrows at the demoness who had moved to the ground in attempt to keep a distance between them.

            "The anticipation is...exquisite.(7) Don't you think?" Cydaea asked as she continued to move.

            Killa dropped to one knee on the dome to brace as she sighted along the arrow. But another demon was suddenly there, blocking the shot she released anyhow. The succubus screamed as it caught her in the chest, sending her to the ground to writhe in agony as it burned her from the inside.

            "Surely you must agree. After all...why else would you keep torturing yourself when the object of your desire has been but arm's length away this entire time."

            "Shut up, bitch!" Killa hissed and released a volley of arrows toward Cydaea.

            "Ah, how delicious...you're tearing yourself apart inside. We know how the first of my daughters died...and it was not mere friendship. So violent...so powerful..."

            No longer able to remain still, the hunter leapt forward as she chose to throw a caltrop rather than drop it. The trap flew through the air like a bola to strike the ground beneath Cydaea. She screamed as the viciously spiked jaws closed on one of her back legs, making her stop moving. It was all that the hunter needed. An arrow laced with blue struck the demoness's abdomen and ice crackled as it spread.

            Kormac cried out in pain. Killa spun away from her current target to see several of Cydaea's strongest daughters had the templar on the ground. As she had been so preoccupied with Cydaea, they had dispatched her wolf and snared the man. One held his helm in her hand and was using her legs to pin his arms over his head as the another had already torn through his mail armor. Her claws had dug deep into his side in her haste. The third was crouched over him, fastened to his neck.

            Red consumed everything. Cydaea was forgotten. And that darkness rose as her body tightened and throbbed. This time, she consumed it as she had once before upon the sands of the desert. Arrows were notched and drawn. When they flew, they actually arced as if guided through the air rather than soaring straight. Each struck one of the succubi. They reared away from their victim with screams of rage and turned toward her.

            Dropping to one knee, skidding to a stop, she sent one more arrow flying before dropping her bow aside. Very few hunters were trained in the art of close combat. But there were some that prepared for it. Killa drew the daggers concealed in each boot as the three demons launched themselves toward her. Leaping upward, she lashed out. Blades flashed in the light of the sin heart and her own eyes as they flew.

            Screams were torn from the demons with every slice, every stab, every time another blade drove deep into their bodies. Their claws struck her armor and glanced off as she twisted and danced with them. The sharp talons slid past her guard several times to lay open slices across her face, breaking the mail to dig into her hips, slicing along her wrists and un-plated arms. Every lance of pain made the demons scream more as she retaliated three-fold.

            Then...it was over. Wings fluttered against the ground as the last of the succubi succumbed to death with blood flowing away from the ruin made of her chest. Kneeling there, gasping for breath, the hunter stared at the last corpse. Her lips twitched and curved as she grinned, mouth open to try and catch her breath. But only her thirst had been satisfied. Her hunger still raged inside.

            Kormac stood watching her from where he had collected himself. But the ferocity of the fight, the sheer destruction and rage he had seen had held him rooted to the spot. His heart was racing as his breath came in short bursts. He did not know what he saw but it made him...feel something. It was familiar. And since he had recovered his memories, he knew he had never felt it before. It was...so close to lust, almost fear, certainly want.

            Killa slammed one of the daggers back into its place in her boot. Reaching out, she gripped the last succubi's exposed heart. Tearing it free, she rose like a person possessed. Turning around, she moved toward the dome shielding the heart. Lifting the bloody flesh, she used it to trace a rune upon the shield's surface. As she finished it, there was a sharp sound that jolted through her.

            Stepping back, she dropped the meat aside and watched. Gold light suffused the crystal and spread from the symbol. Cracks formed, lancing outward like a crazed spiderweb to embrace it. In a pulse of light, the shield fell and left the heart exposed.  Bringing her free arm up, she paused and turned to retrieve her bow, replacing the other dagger without a care it was bloody. Drawing an arrow, she drew the bow and released an arrow into the center of the giant heart.

            Without caring about what happened, she walked away. Her head turned to where Cydaea had been. The demoness was long gone. She had expected as much. As the heart shuddered and heaved in agony behind her, she started down the steps to the next level. Kormac finally managed to follow her as the heart exploded behind them.

            "I can feel the blood hemorrhaging from the Sin Heart... Oh, you will pay for this."(8)

            "Show yourself again and we shall see, Cydaea," Killa hissed back.

            "I do hope you're not in over your head..."(9) the rich voice continued. "Beautiful nephalem."

            To that, Killa had no answer. Nor would she look over her shoulder to Kormac. Given the option of breaking and just possessing him or pushing everything into the hatred of this demoness toying with them--she chose the latter.

            "I will enjoy crushing you and throwing what pitiful remains your carcass provides in Azmodan's face before I tear him apart!"

            Kormac remained utterly silent in the wake of this uncharacteristic outburst from the hunter. The deeper they went into this tower, the more he saw a demon instead of the hunter. But he knew she was in there. He was nowhere close to her power, but he sensed the light still deep inside her, knew that the woman he admired was inside. He just had no clue what to do to stop the growing darkness.

            Suddenly, the blinding flash of hellish light signaling another appearance of the demon they were truly after made them both stop.

            "You think you know pain, nephalem? You think you know anguish? Soon, my concubine will show you their true meaning..."(10) Azmodan said.

            "If you knew how to love, then I would show you exactly how short your words fall, Azmodan. But I will still settle for tearing your concubine from you all the same."

            Killa stormed forward, shattering the hell lord's vision as she passed through it without a hint of hesitation or fear. Behind her, Kormac did hesitate. He felt utterly lost and out of place somehow. Here he stood, a templar within the hells themselves, destroying evil at its source. He should have been focused on the glory to be had before him. Instead, he had a cold lump in his stomach and a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He was seeing the very one that inspired him falling and was helpless to stop it.


	30. Bend or Break

            It was becoming harder to shut out the agony in the moans and muffled screams she heard. Every step she took taking her deeper into the crater, deeper into the hells, deeper along the towers, it was all she could hear. Every time she passed a giant chained too close to the path, her eyes went toward it. And every time it seemed the tortured creature felt it. The head would move either toward or away from her and they would groan at the flare of pain the movement caused.

            Pausing near the corner of one such path, she found herself gazing at one of the giants. The metal mask it wore was a halter driving twisted spikes of metal into its skull, the holes of its ears. It forced the large jaw open around a gag in the shape of a ball. The ball was a smoldering ember burning its mouth and what flesh was not twisted and pulled away by the barbed chains. The empty eye sockets were kept open by more spiked chains so she could see that the burned skin had grown to cover the bone inside the hollows.

            Just like the rest, it responded in some manner to her gaze. The great head rose and rolled over its shoulder and the hand pinned over it. Another groan of agony rose as it turned its gruesome face toward where she stood. Heart forgetting to beat, she watched in twisted fascination as it pulled against the chains tearing its flesh. It...nuzzled the stone she stood upon as a dog would nuzzle its master's hand.

            "The chains tear at their flesh. Hear their screams, such...sweet music,"(1) Cydaea said from wherever she was concealed.

            Killashandra only watched the giant add to its own torment as it strained to get closer to her. Something behind it moved and she saw a sight that made a chill run through her. The giant had wings. Or, it had once had wings. Now there were only the twisted, burnt stubs where they had been cut off, leaving them small and broken spikes like spidery limbs rather than arms. And when her gaze returned to its horrible face, she found herself wondering about what type of creatures they were.

            "You hear it as well, don't you, beautiful nephalem?" the demoness asked.

            Although she knew that she should move on and kill that bitch, she could not leave. The pitiful, pleading way that the creature strained toward her was clear enough. It was begging her for something. And that hunger inside unfolded as she began to understand it more. The giant was purposely hurting itself, it was giving its agony up to her. She felt it, tasted it.

            "Oh, my. You can feed from it as well? Naughty, naughty nephalem...what would your templar say?"

            "He would say to hold your tongue!"(*) Kormac snapped.

            Jerking away from the edge, the hunter spun to find he had caught up to her without her being aware of it. A moment of fear and apprehension caught her when she realized she had no clue how long he had been watching. Her eyes refused to look at him to see. She wanted...needed...hungered... It was a throbbing hollow inside. And he was so close.

            He caught her arm before she had started to walk away and held tight. Glowering, she made the mistake of glaring at him. The intense green of his eyes made her freeze and breath catch. Suddenly her mind was assaulted by both reality and fantasy involving him and what she would do to him. Hatred and rage were there, struggling against the dark desire and destroying her sense of reason.

            Kormac felt the tension in her arm even through her armor but he did not release her. He had come upon her staring at the giant, watched it respond to just her presence, heard what Cydaea was saying. And he saw what was happening in those crimson and gold eyes now. He was losing his friend--no, he was losing Killashandra. Whatever was wrong was destroying her piece by piece.

            "Let go of me, templar."

            "No. Tell me what is going on," he demanded. "I can barely see and hardly breathe, and you stride on unbowed! What are you made of?"(2)

            Growling, Killa twisted, jerking her arm free of his grasp with strength he had come to expect. But when she turned away, he grabbed her again. Anger rose as she turned back to glare at him. The fire in her eyes warned of the blow about to come.

            "I'm warning you, templar..."

            "You're destroying yourself, hunter! I barely see anything in your eyes but hate and rage. You're pushing yourself too hard!"

            The rage rose, boiling upward through her as her vision became tinted by red. Kormac grabbed her other arm and gave her a hard shake. It was enough of a surprise to make her snarl at him. Then--suddenly she was surrounded by Light. The shock of such beautiful warmth made her gasp as rage was forgotten. Her hands grabbed his arms in crushing grips as she arched. It hurt, burned, but felt so good that she clung to it.

            When it faded, she blinked harshly, again finding his face. It was his eyes that again caught her in a trap. There was something in his gaze that...made her insides clench tightly. Remembering to breathe, she licked her lips and swallowed hard. He was so close...she could taste him, smell him. For just that moment she remembered caring, remembered why she kept her distance, remembered why she had to hurt. She turned away, pushing with her hands rather than cling.

            "Let go of me, Kormac. We have a world to save."

            "I know. Which is why I'm not letting go this time."

            Confused, she turned her head toward him. All she saw was determination in his eyes along with pain. It was enough to make her frown and want to hear what he was clearly trying to say.

            "Nephalem are born of angel and demon," he finally said, gaze still locked upon hers. "Dark and Light, Good and Evil. But your path...being a demon hunter, you once told me that you are a living weapon of the Dark, the opposite of what the templar order fashioned me into. But..."

            Breaking off, he glanced to where the giant was still pressing its tortured head against the ledge, straining toward Killa. Although his mouth had been dry for hours, he still tried to moisten it to swallow.

            "Where is the Light to balance your darkness? What happened to the steel focus that made you...more than a weapon?"

            His words were coming far too close to the very things she had been fighting against. Looking away, she sighed. "I'm coming to the end of my hunt. It's expected."

            "Killa, you've helped me...time and time again. You've listened, you've advised, you've guided, you've saved my life innumerable times. You even forced me to open my eyes and look at the truth about my order and the corruption within. Why do you refuse to let me help you? After all you've done for me!"

            The knee that came up between his legs only struck his armor hard enough for him to feel the contact. It did not hurt, but it surprised him enough his grip loosened. She pulled away and stepped out of reach.

            "Because I will not ask you to do something that would extinguish the light I see in your eyes!" she snapped.

            Her words caught him by surprise and he had darted after her before he even realized he was again grabbing her arms. This time he was the one to jerk and spin her back around to face him.

            "What is it that you need that could possibly take the Light away from me?"

            His question brought a look to her eyes that he had thought he only imagined. Gold blazed against gray as he saw hunger, lust, need, darkness. But the darkness he saw in that split second was not evil. He felt it along with the sudden bolt of sensation that left him breathless. The hunter had already broken the eye contact and locked it back.

            "I exist to destroy evil, to kill demons, to save lives. I live and kill to ensure no one else suffers my fate."

            "And this means you are alone?"

            "Yes."

            "I will not accept that!" he shouted as he moved around in front of her. "I refuse to accept that! It is not the truth and you know it!"

            "I will not have anyone else hurt or die because I failed to protect them!"

            "I don't want you to protect me, hunter! I want to help you!" His hands tightened on her arms as he stepped closer so they were nearly nose to nose. "Eirena. Lyndon. Tyrael. Leah. Haedrig. Do you really think we're here on a whim? We chose to come, because you made it possible. All of us followed you because we believe in you, we see the ability to destroy evil within you. Real strength isn't about what you can do, it's about your ability to love and care and do what is necessary...regardless of the cost."

            Killa had gone still. Listening to every word he said, she felt herself falling deeper into that darkness. The stubborn man just would not let go. Pulling up all of her hatred, all of her rage, all of her darkness, she made one final effort to get him to turn away and leave her alone before she lost what little restraint she had left. Emotion filled her eyes in crimson fire as she looked into his eyes.

            Kormac stiffened, gasping at the demon he held onto, the hatred searing his soul. But he met glare for glare as light flashed within his eyes to transform them into sun-lit emeralds. It made something inside her crumble and she jerked away from him again, sending him stumbling backward with the force of her shove.

            "You think you can help, but you're wrong. Don't you get it yet? What I want..." she trailed off as her throat closed up and she found herself fighting with the overwhelming urge to just show him.

            "What do you want?" he asked gently.

            Her eyes closed tight as she took several deep breaths. Maybe, if she finally exposed that dark desire, the hunger, it would make him turn away. It would drive him off and leave her to finish her hunt in peace without distraction. So her head turned and she faced him as her hands slowly curled into fists, fingers shifting against her palms like coiled talons.

            "I want to hear you scream," she said and the gates broke as she lifted her gaze to burn his body with that dark hunger as she again heard his muffled cries and whimpers under her lash.

            "I want to see you writhe for me again, kneel before me," she panted as Kulle's vision of him returned to her eyes and almost made her forget what was real.

            "I want to taste your blood and your pain. I want to hear you beg me for more," she almost groaned as she could feel his bare flesh under the caress of her hand, stroking along his collarbones and falling down his chest.

            "I want to hear every gasping breath as I break your body...claim your soul. I want you to rise for every touch I give, every time I take you," she breathed as a vision of him beneath her, rising to meet her thrusts and filling her consumed her mind.

            "I want you to be mine. MINE! And no one else's!"

            She began to slowly stalk toward him. Power was unfolding even more intense than before as she finally admitted to everything she had fought against.

            "I want you, Kormac. I want to possess you. I want to own you. I want your pain and your pleasure. And I want to hear you cry my name at the height of pleasure as I rebuild you...again...and again..."

            Her hands found the solid shape of his jaw beneath his helm. Fingers curling, she pulled it up and off his head only to slide her fingers through the sweat-matted locks. So lost in the chaos of desire and hunger possessing her, she did not even realize their positions as she leaned in to just breathe his scent.

            "Is that what you need, Shandra?"

            The softness of his voice snapped her out of her chaos. Blinking, she was surprised to see that he was on one knee before her. Her gaze fell to the motion of his throat, following his Adams apple as he swallowed hard. For once she could sense his nervousness, his apprehension, and something far fainter that was almost spicy. Looking into his eyes, she saw a faint spark of fear, the deep concern, and the Light within him. But what she did not see was horror, aversion, or dismay. Her plan, it seemed, had backfired.

            Swallowing herself, she backed away, eyes falling. "It doesn't matter. It won't be long before we reach Azmo--"

            Fingers were against her lips. Bare fingers. And the warmth of his body was under her hand where it had fallen to his shoulder, an aura of Light she wanted to wrap herself in and never let go. She turned her head just enough to look at him past the hood. Determination strengthened his jaw as he sank back down to his knee and took the remaining gauntlet off.

            "Shandra..."

            Hearing such a gentle voice say her name that way made a shudder pass through her. The struggling resistance weakened further, trembling as it hung by a thread. Looking back to him, she found herself shaking her head. His eyes captured hers as he reached up to almost gently grip her hips and make sure she stayed put.

            "If this is the sacrifice you require of me...then...take what is being offered. Take it...and help us. All of us."

            "I am not Maghda."

            "And I am not Jondar."

            "No. You're not."

            A part of her was still hesitating, still resisting. Kormac finally swallowed his pride and moved to rise. Her eyes flickered with brief hope he would stop his current madness. Instead, he kissed her. The last thread snapped and she felt the dark hunger ignite her body as her arms rose to snake about his shoulders, pulling him closer as their lips parted and tongues fought. For a man sworn to chastity, he knew how to steal her breath away.

            Unconsciously, she curled her fingers around the back of his neck. When they pressed against the bite from the succubus, Kormac made a sound into their kiss that made her thighs tremble as the wetness their spread further through the cloth undergarment she wore. Breaking back, her gaze fell to the bite mark and flared. Withdrawing, she glared at him.

            "Heal that before I remove it myself."

            Whirling away, she stormed down the path before her, shadows shifting and rippling in her wake. At an utter loss of thought and breath, the templar obeyed her immediately before regaining enough presence of mind to follow her--after he retrieved his helm and armaments. Still apprehensive and entirely lost, he could not deny that he had not expected...such a kiss. And now that he had faced the truth, he found his heartbeat racing with the thought of what would follow.


	31. Temptation's Trap

            Killashandra was still struggling within herself. Everything that Kormac had said, had offered, circled like a rogue wind in her mind. He could not possibly understand what he was offering let alone be willing to follow through. It had to be something about this place. Something woven by Cydaea to ensnare them and kill them. But try as she might, she could not think how. It did not make sense with what she knew of demons.

            Every time she tried to focus on it, her mind would slide to the side and fall upon his taste, his scent, the press of his lips, the light weight of his hands, his words. It would spiral back to the desert purification, to Kulle's vision, to her own dark fantasies in a never-ending loop she could not stop, only break from briefly.

            And then...the situation grew even worse. Because as they moved on toward the second sin heart, they came upon something entirely unexpected. The bodies of multiple guards and soldiers in the armor and colors of Bastion's Keep. Blood had dried upon the ground around them. It revealed a multitude of footprints mainly demonic...along with bare human feet. And she knelt to check and see if her eyes were showing her the truth.

            A whip cracked sharply from somewhere ahead of them. But they were behind one of the large pools of fire set into the larger sections of walkway. Rising slowly, she readied her bow and crept forward. Taking her unspoken signals, Kormac also moved into a crouch and followed her twice as slow rather than alert whatever waited ahead to their approach.

            Coming around the molten fire pool, the hunter's narrowed eyes beheld no less than seven succubi. Each one stood with something unexpected at their sides. Men. Heads shaven and bodies bare save for ragged and bloody loincloths stood or knelt at the hooves of every succubus. Thick, heavy collars were locked around their throats and red-glowing chains leashed them to the demons. It was a scene that made her stop and take everything in.

            Behind her, Kormac was also looking. The first reaction to what he saw was not the revulsion he should have felt. It was...something that made his heartbeat thunder in his ears. Not horror but...he could not name it. Unbidden, he bowed his head to look down at the hunter crouched before him. Some of what she had said was finally making sense and it did stir a bit of apprehension--rather, a lot of it.

            She moved as he studied her. Leaning further away from their cover, she slid into the clear and rose. Her bow came up and the arrow flew. It split apart and curved slightly to widen the distance between the two shafts faster. Succubi screamed in pain as the bolts found their marks and the hunter loosed another arrow as the human pets chained to the wounded demons charged at Killa with murder in their empty eyes.

            Kormac charged forward, using his shield to slam into the prisoners and send them tumbling. But he did not attack them. Sword in hand, he focused on holding the humans back as the hunter brought the demons down. When the last fell, the men stopped attacking as the emptiness left their eyes. Reason returned, control was grasped. And they almost all fell to their knees before the hunter, sobbing.

            "My mind is my own again!"(1) one cried.

            Another spoke up as he kept his head bowed, almost prostrating himself, "To pay for my freedom, I have only my own flesh and blood."(2)

            The third was rising from his position as he regained more of a sense of self. "Come; the Maiden of Lust lurks below."(3) He pointed to a set of stairs leading down and seemed to be in far more command of himself than the rest. "Cydaea, the Maiden of Lust, lured us with her damned promises."(4)

            One of the other kneeling men was also rising but he kept his head bowed. "I'll never forget what she made me do,"(5) he murmured.

            Each of the men showed numerous signs that she had seen in abused and broken people before. Not one would look Killa in the eye, they kept their heads bowed and their arms at their sides or in her view at all times. A couple had to continuously stop themselves from placing their arms behind their backs as if bound. Not a one looked in Kormac's direction or at one another. Even the brave one behaved like the rest.

            First the giants, then Kormac, now these poor slaves...she could not escape any of it. And when one of the men tripped over the leg of one of their former captors, he fell to his knees at her feet the moment she touched him to stop him from falling. Frozen there with her hand out where his arm had been, she stared down at the kneeling man and found herself swallowing hard. He was starved, filthy, weak...and utterly helpless.

            Slowly, her fingers curled toward her hand as her arm gradually lowered to her side as if she were afraid to spook him. Just as slowly, she reached out to touch him again. His head bowed further when her leather-clad fingers touched his shaved skull but he did not pull away from her touch. Fascinated by the behavior, she slowly caressed the skin and trailed her fingers down along the back of his neck out along one shoulder.

            Whether she broke herself out of her trance or it merely changed into something new, she gripped his upper arm. Stepping back, she used it to pull him up to his feet. His eyes rose but dropped fearfully before he could look at her face. Once certain he was standing and would remain standing, she released his arm and pointed toward the stairs with the other.

            "Show us."

            He was not the only one that obeyed instantly. Not one moved out of sight, they all lingered as if they were afraid to go too far. But they did lead her swiftly enough. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Kormac standing as rigidly as a statue. His face was too concealed by his helm for her to read him and his eyes were as hard as stone. Their eyes met and he began to follow as she chose to focus on what the slaves were going to show them.

            The templar moved up to walk beside her and speak in a low voice, "These men have been broken. Even with their masters gone, they are as trustworthy as cultists."

            "I'm aware of that. But there is no harm in seeing where they think to lead us. Sooner or later all trails lead to something worth destroying."

            Again her words were unusual, darker. The templar glanced at her again but chose to remain silent as he fell back so she could go down the narrower set of stairs in front of him. Killa's thoughts were as dark as her words. Without knowing just how she understood it, she knew that already the slaves had turned to her as their new master. Such ease of transition raised her guard rather than seduced her into savoring their fear and obedience.

            It was undeniably true in that moment, that the only one she wanted to kneel before her was Kormac. With these broken men, there was nothing but a sense of pity and disgust. But the moment she saw him perform such actions for her--everything tightened, throbbed, tingled, and she had to bite back a moan at the overwhelming sensation the obsession presented her with.

            When the broken men fell before a sudden rush of ghouls and demonic goat-men, it was far more a relief than a burden. She did no less than ensure the demons that killed them were killed in turn. And just as they started to move on, a familiar voice caressed their senses.

            "Hm... if you take my toys away...will you take their place?"(6)

            "She has no shame, does she?"(7) he asked with a glower.

            "Of course not. She's a demon of lust," the hunter replied.

            They had gone on a few more steps when the question fell from her lips completely unbidden, "Would you?"

            "What?"

            "Would you take their place?"

            "Never."

            Satisfied with that answer that eased the burning possessiveness within and further convinced her he was still the Kormac she knew, she relaxed a little bit. But she was still recalling his teasing words near the giant. And that dark hunger was joined by yet another surge of something...deviously dark.

            "So strong, so certain...so foolish," Cydaea's voice came from somewhere above them rather than below as the slaves had claimed. "I will take great pleasure in your suffering."(8)

            By that time, they had reached one last set of stairs leading to the familiar sight of a giant, pulsing heart. While the first sin heart had been a yellowish glow, the second was a rich red hue that darkened to charred purple where the tentacles crowned it. Watching the heart beat, Killa slowed for a moment and found herself admiring the beauty of it.

            Slowly, she began to go down the steps. The last time they had neared a sin heart, Cydaea had made her appearance. Kormac was clearly thinking along the same lines since he was searching the haze above and around them as they descended. Nothing confronted them. Both remained on high alert as they reached the last step and began to cross to the heart. The hunter paused, preferring to remain at a distance for the anticipated splatter.

            The bow rose as the templar sank into a crouch, steeling himself to face the spider-witch when she appeared. Sighting along the arrow, she drew the string back--and spun when an unearthly screech came from off to the side. Out of nowhere a large succubus with blue-kissed skin and golden hooves and wings dove down across the platform to tackle the hunter head-on. The force of the curled ram's horns striking her stomach knocked the air out of her even before they hit the ground and tumbled.

            Kormac shouted at the demon as he started to charge into the fray. The hunter and succubus only stopped their tumble when they came up against something hot, pliable, and extremely soft. Wrestling against the demon, unaware of just what they were up against, Killa kept her bow-arm's shield between them as her free hand fumbled for the dagger in her boot. The succubus screeched at her and struck at her face as an armored knee dug into the soft blue-white stomach.

            Something changed in the air around her but the hunter was locked in her current battle as talons raked over her armor without harm. The shrill squeal of demon claw against the metal made her ears ring. The succubus screeched--and was silenced when the hunter's dagger drove up into her abdomen, piercing her diaphragm and ripping a rough trail up through her torso, spilling her innards over the hunter pinned beneath her.

            The demon slumped and she shoved the corpse aside before twisting to roll and rise to her feet. A sudden thunder making the ground lurch and tremble unbalanced her and she fell onto that warm, pliable surface. Looking down, her eyes widened when she realized she was sitting upon the sin heart itself. Every great beat pulsed through her and hit that burning, coiling hunger inside as if it were caressing things within that nothing had ever touched before.

            Gasping, she thrust herself away from the heart, feeling the sensations fade drastically with the loss of contact. Turning, she swept the area for sight of Cydaea--and froze when she saw her own form reflected from the crystal wall that had risen to encase the sin heart. She was trapped inside the glowing blue dome. And there, her bow lay just beyond the shield, out of reach.

            Immediately she looked for Kormac--and again froze at what she saw. His charge had been aborted by Cydaea's webbing. It had struck the templar's legs, spreading over the ground in a liquid splatter only to almost instantly congeal, sending him crashing forward onto his hands and knees. The shield had flown from his arm and his sword was only just ending the spin that had sent it out of reach. A second shot of sticky white caught one of his arms and trapped him on his hands and knees as he started to push himself back upright.

            And pulling herself up and over the edge of the platform, the Maiden of Lust was smiling as she leisurely approached the trapped templar...

            "Oh yes...I've been looking forward to this."(9)


	32. Darkness Becomes Her

            The shield blocked attacks, not sound. The fact that she heard the demon's words crystal clear attested to this. Killashandra's eyes narrowed to crimson slits as she watched the female get closer to Kormac. He was still struggling against the webbing trapping him in place but there was nothing frantic about his motions. Even if he had felt fear in the face of seeing Cydaea for the first time, he had mastered it before seeing her again.

            "I warn you, Cydaea...touch him and I'll destroy the Sin Heart."

            "But, were you not going to do that anyway? Beautiful nephalem...you've taken away so many of my toys...it's only fair that I take away yours."

            "Destroy the heart, hunter! Now!" the templar shouted.

            Suddenly, Cydaea grabbed his head, wrenching it up with her human hands and making him jerk at the painful strain it caused his throat. "Destroy the heart and I'll destroy him!"

            Killa growled and thrust Cydaea's words back at her, "But, weren't you going to do that anyway?"

            It was a strange manner of stand-off. The demon hunter trapped behind the shield, the demon free to take the templar--and neither could make a move without severe reprisals. Both hunter and demon were thinking quickly, analyzing the situation. Killa knew she could destroy the heart since she was able to touch it. Cydaea knew she held a very valuable key in her grasp, if only she could manipulate it.

            Kormac choked, fighting for air against the grip nearly breaking his neck. Suddenly, the grip eased and he coughed, gasping when she let his head fall enough he could breathe again. Cold fingers pulled his helmet off and threw it aside as Cydaea's hands caressed his face. Apparently, she had formed a plan. Killa glared bloody murder at the Maiden of Lust as she envisioned all the ways she was going to dismember and kill the bitch.

            "You...have such power, dear nephalem," Cydaea said in her chocolate-rich voice again. It still rolled off Killa without doing more than making her feel disgust. "To destroy so many legions of hell... Azmodan fears you."

            "As he should. I will destroy him."

            "Oh, yes...yes...you could indeed. I can see that now."

            Her hands were still caressing Kormac's face tenderly. Caught as he was, he was unable to see one of those dagger-like legs rising. The tip tapped his back and made him jerk in surprise. Then, a different type of jerk. Metal clattered loudly to the ground as his pauldrons fell away, straps severed. Killa growled and fumed behind the crystal.

            "I can see...quite clearly. With all that power inside you...even the angels could fall before you."

            "Cydaea..."

            Kormac rolled his eyes to look toward Killa as the arachnid body moved over his. Distracting himself to maintain control over his fear, he watched the hunter pace back and forth a few steps. Killa met his gaze but continued to examine the shield trapping her. The deep thunder of the heart at her back made concentrating difficult because it was beginning to beat faster--tuning itself to the fallen templar.

            "Would you consider entering the fold, beautiful nephalem? I have never had a sister before...only daughters."

            Kormac's eyes closed tightly when one of Cydaea's hands was replaced by her front leg. Although she pressed her human shin against his throat rather than the spidery claw, it was close enough to nearly undo him. It left the maiden the freedom to reach down and unfasten the sword-belt, tugging it away and casting it aside as the tome flared with holy light in the presence of the demon.

            "I hunt my prey, not mingle with them," Killa snarled as her hands curled into fists, clenching and un-clenching with desire to wrap them around the demon's throat. It was a paltry attempt to focus her rage. But she felt the heated heartbeat at her back, watched those cursed hands run over Kormac's body, violate him one piece of armor at a time. And she raged.

            "Oh, I never said to stop. There are always demons in need of destroying. Why, my lord Azmodan would be happy to let you kill as many as you please."

            "But only the ones he wants me to kill, right?"

            "Naturally."

            Kormac's armor was undone and fell away from his chest. Cydaea tore through the already-damaged mail beneath, ripping it apart and free from his body to toss aside. The webbing still held his arms prisoner, broken lengths of mail falling like torn cloth about his web-snared arms. The templar shuddered violently when the maiden lowered herself so the mandibles that were located where Cydaea's sex should be nibbled at his hair.

            The crystal dome rang suddenly, unexpectedly. And Killa was only aware after the sound faded that her hand throbbed in pain. She hardly cared. Cydaea was looking at her again and smiling. The only thing she could think of was to get out and rip that smile off the pretty face. When the pale hands moved to begin unfastening the plate protecting Kormac below the waist, the templar again squeezed his eyes shut as his lips moved in a silent mantra.

            "I'll do more than kill you for this, Cydaea!" Killa snarled

            "Dear nephalem, think about my offer. Join us, swear allegiance to Azmodan and aid him in becoming the Prime Evil. He will reward you...so richly. And as one of us, you can have any number of toys to play with, pets to torment...even this one."

            Metal rang against the stone as she finished removing the heavy plate. The mail beneath suffered the fate of his hauberk to leave the layer of leather beneath. It was all that now separated Kormac from Cydaea and it was practically nothing. Killa found herself spitting curses in her mind, red clouding her vision as she slammed both fists into the shield once more. Again it rang but remained solid.

            "I would so...love to have a sister...after all this time..." Cydaea purred seductively.

            Behind the hunter, the sin heart started to beat rapidly. As rapidly as Kormac's own heart when his head was pulled up and forced to turn. The maiden leaned down, pressing her arachnid body against his back and covering him as she lowered her head. The templar suddenly thrashed, struggling against his bonds and the horrible body pressing down against him as his fear overtook him.

            "Shh...I eat you now."(1) Cydaea devoured the scream that escaped his lips.

            "CYDAEA!"

            Light from the heart faded in a sudden flood of shadow. Having barely brushed the templar's lips with her own, the maiden looked up. Shadow boiled within the sin heart's shield. It twisted and writhed over the hunter's body, wrapped around her like a lost lover. Two eyes glared out from the midst of that shadow and bled crimson. In a sudden motion, the shadow collapsed inward, devoured by the hunter as she unleashed the power that had raged inside.

            That bloody red light flared, pulsing through her chest, emanating from her like another heart as shadowy tendrils bathed in blood rose like a cursed angel's wings from behind her shoulders. Darkness writhed at her feet, clung to her legs and arms like a beast thrashing against a leash. And where those shadowy wings touched the shield, it trembled and turned a violent red. Cydaea's eyes widened at the vision before her and a smile spread across her lips.

            "I fear I may have to take you seriously after all,"(2) she said. "Welcome, sister. Would you...care to taste him? His fear is...exquisite."

            "He. Is. Mine," came a voice laced with shadow and flame that burned the maiden's senses so sweetly that she gasped.

            "But he broke my toys, little sister."

            "He is not yours to punish."

            Kormac had gone mostly still when Cydaea withdrew. At the sound of the hunter's voice so...dark, he opened his eyes to look at her. The sight of this cursed angel made them widen in shock. "No...Killa..."

            "If I release you, what is there to stop you from trying to hurt me," Cydaea asked in that rolling purr.

            "Nothing."

            "Is that a promise?" the maiden asked breathily.

            Clearly, Killa had enough. Head bowing, her eyes flashed as she pushed that power burning in her heart outward. The shadowy tendrils dancing behind her shoulders flared and grew, striking the crystal shield hard enough to make it ring. The blue turned red, spreading like a bleeding thing as cracks formed and raced every which way over the surface. Her right arm drew back as if drawing an arrow, and she drove her fist into the wall one more time. The shield shattered.

            The Maiden of Lust tensed in surprise as the hunter turned to step over the ring that had spawned the barrier. "Oh, my...I was right. You are quite an extraordinary one."

            Those blazing red eyes fixed her with a glare. But the hunter did not turn toward her bow. She did not head for the sword. She prowled toward the maiden and the templar. Cydaea withdrew slowly, leaving Kormac shuddering in revulsion from her touch and trying to regain his control. Light flickered weakly around him as if he could not gather the strength to summon it completely to his aid.

            One shadow-wreathed hand slid under his chin to gently draw his head up. Despite his intention to fight back, Kormac met those red eyes. They burned his soul, seared his mind--and then, he saw the warmth of golden light in the hearts. He saw what Cydaea could not see. Through the darkness, Killa was there, and she was waiting. Dread gripped his heart for what was about to happen. But, he had already made his decision.

            "Do you know why you are being punished?"

            Confused for a split second, understanding entered his eyes when she brought her other hand against his back. He felt the coils of a lash fall to rest against the leather. He remembered the desert in that moment and what he had asked, what she had given. But where had she gotten this whip? If his mouth and throat had not been dry before, they would have become so in that moment.

            "I'm sorry, Killa...I failed you."

            "Such the sweet little pet. Too bad he's lying."

            "Shut up!" the hunter snapped as she reached under to grab the leather tunic. It tore open under her grasp and she jerked it up over his back and down over his head. It fell, sleeves caught by his bound arms, covering the stone beneath his head. His shirt was torn off completely to leave his back bare. Muscle trembled beneath the taut, battle-scarred flesh.

            Her hand slowly slid down his back--before she tugged her gloves off to tuck them into her belt. Then she caressed his back, smoothing her bare palm over the sweaty skin the way one would sooth a spooked beast. It was the perfect canvas. Firm, smooth, malleable...and all hers. After being so close to the sin heart, it was simple for her to feel the racing heartbeat within his body before she withdrew her hand.

            "Why are you being punished, templar?" she asked as she straightened to move around behind him.

            "I...wasn't strong enough. I failed you..."

            "That will do, for a start."

            She did not see Kormac squeeze his eyes shut. But she did hear his cry when the lash fell on his back. Red shimmered along the length as it darkened just as her arrows often did. Only this was no mere attack. Her arm drew back and she sent the whip out again. For several moments, the only sounds in the chamber beyond the mammoth heartbeat was the crack of the lash breaking flesh and the pained grunts from the one enduring it.

            This time, her arm did not tire. Her breath came faster every time he could not withhold a sound of pain. His back bled beneath her assault, first trickling then flowing down his sides to begin dripping onto the floor. Every time the lash licked his body, it sent the red splattering. Every time the whip left his flesh it sent drops of blood flying through the air to splatter in great arcs on the floor.

            And with him trapped in the open, she could move around him. It was not just his back but his shoulders, his flanks. Every step she took was a sharp click on the stone playing counter to the whip. Blood followed the dancing lash as it slithered over the floor behind her like an obedient serpent, leaving strangely graceful marks on the stone. Cydaea kept her distance, moving with the hunter to keep the templar between them. But it was clear the show was affecting the demon.

            One of her human hands had fallen to where the spider mandibles framed what appeared to be a mouth. The way her fingers stroked in and out of the dark entry, the glistening trails of liquid, it was not a mouth--or it was something that would give any man, sane or insane, nightmares for the rest of his days. The mandibles gripped and nibbled, caressing her hand every time she slid her fingers inside. Cydaea's breathing was coming faster as she watched the templar jerk and writhe against her webbing.

            Even though the demon would have called out, something in the way the hunter had commanded her to shut up promised the entire debauched spectacle would end should she interrupt. With the lust filling the air, she was happy to comply even if still quite cautious. And at last, Kormac sagged. Trapped on his hands and knees, he could not collapse but his body fell, making the shoulder blades stick out sharply against his back as his head hung limp as if his neck had broken.

            Killa paused then, drawing the lash to her and slowly running it through her hands to coil it. Approaching the sobbing, gasping man, she sank down into a crouch. Shadow caressed his sweat-blackened hair as her fingers curled under his chin. His head was too heavy and neck too loose to lift. Moving her hand up, she grabbed the sweat-soaked hair and used it to pull his head up. Kormac groaned but his eyes struggled open without needing to be instructed.

            "Do you know why you are being punished, templar?" came her cold question.

            She saw the light within those fever-bright eyes. He struggled to focus on her and try to get a breath long enough to reply. But what she did not see was that confusion or emptiness she had glimpsed once before. Kormac was still there. He burned in agony but he was still there, fighting against it. His lips were cracked but no longer dry. Tears had moistened them so they glistened.

            "...no..."

            Rising, she glanced to the bloodied stone around them. Her hand remained in his hair, forcing him to lift his body as much as he could with her to ease the sharp pain of having his hair pulled. "Pity."

            Letting his head drop, she took two steps away then spun without warning and brought the whip down. This time, Kormac lurched as a scream broke from him at the brutality of the fresh assault. Killa caught a sharp breath as the sound lanced through her. Wetness grew between her thighs as that hungry hollow inside twisted with want, clenching and making her shudder as she squirmed a little. It only served to grind her undergarment against sensitive flesh and leave her panting.

            Fresh blood marked the floor as she circled around the other way, purposely trailing the lash to leave trails of crimson on the stone. Toying with it, biting back her moan at what he had just given her, she switched hands. The whip rose and fell again as she started anew. Cydaea again moved to remain opposite the hunter as she circled. Shadowy wings flared and moved restlessly, splaying then tangling amongst themselves as if they too were writhing.

            "His pain...so sweet...so rich..." Cydaea finally breathed as she stroked herself. At last the demon reached out to touch the agony before her. A frown touched her beautiful features as she paused.

            Killa's whip struck the stone sharply near where the maiden stood, causing her to jump back instantly. The hunter was smiling as she caught the free end of the lash in her other hand. Her hips swayed smoothly with a stride that could only be one gained by sheer power. Each step caused her soaked undergarment to rub against her throbbing sex, ground there by the leather pants worn beneath her armor.

            "What's wrong, Cydaea?" she asked in that shadowy-smooth tone. Red light flared around her body as the shadows writhed against her legs. "You don't seem to be enjoying my toy."

            Stopping before Kormac's head once more, she left the lash coiled in one hand and rested her fist against her hip. The other hand went to gently stroke her fingertips through his hair. He tensed, struggling. Finding the strength, he lifted his head rather than risk her adding to his torment. The armor and shadow were oddly cool against his burning skin and her palm pressed against his jaw to press his head against the metal. A groan escaped him.

            "Why can I not feed from his torment? His screams have no taste, no...power..." the maiden said.

            A dark grin spread across the hunter's face as those crimson eyes flashed. Those long fingers slowly toyed with the wet hair, smoothing and caressing almost reassuringly. And for a moment, as she looked upon the hunter she thought had embraced her darkness, Cydaea felt the first stirrings of doubt. She backed up further.

            "Templar," Killa suddenly snapped.

            He jerked but his eyes opened. With her hand guiding his head, he managed to lift it as blood oozed across his back and trickled around his sides to drip from beneath him along with his sweat. His eyes were still burning bright with agony but she saw the Light there, saw the intelligence. Kormac was there, beneath the torment. Her eyes darted back to Cydaea.

            "Why are you being punished?"

            The light intensified as he grasped what she was saying. Her fingers lightly tapped against the side of his neck and out of the demon's sight, one finger pointed downward. His head fell and he saw the blood she indicated. Following the trails, he wound up pressing his face against her armored thigh and knee. And he saw what she had done with the blood she had spilled.

            "Don't make me ask again, templar."

            Gasping for a deep breath, he shuddered as his eyes closed. Beneath her bare hand, she felt the fever beneath his skin give way to something warm, gentle, rich--and fierce. When he released his breath, his voice came clear and strong rather than the cracked thing it had been just a moment before.

            "Not punished. Purified!"

            Holy Light erupted from his bound form. Cydaea's eyes went wide as she started to spring backward in shock. Killa dropped to one knee and thrust her hand into the trails of blood that all led to a distinct pattern on the stone and plunged her power into them with the light. The rune she had used Kormac's holy blood and the lash to trace on the ground exploded in pure Light. The maiden screamed as she was blinded, the hunter's simple spell used on her caltrops snaring the spidery legs.

            And even as light seared her own eyes, the hunter was racing forward. Cydaea's scream echoed in her ears as she vaulted over the edge of the light trap and landed squarely upon the maiden's back. The lash snared Cydaea around her pretty neck and tightened in the hunter's grip. Still moving, Killa's hand fell to one boot and slid the bloodied dagger free to rise as the demoness clawed at the noose around her throat.

            "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with someone else's toys?" she asked her prey in a sweet tone laced with acid.

            "You will not make me bow to the likes of you!"(3)

            Mouth opening in a scream of rage, not even thrashing could dislodge the hunter from her back. The blade came down as Killa devoured the fear in Cydaea's eyes before she removed them in two swift stabs. Foul blood burst from the ruptured tissue even as she brought the blade across the bitch's throat. The scream became a wet gurgle as the spider legs thrashed and human arms struck futily at the hunter.

            Even as the demon fell, Killa made one more strike from above. Just as she had done to the maiden's daughter when she kissed Kormac, so she did to the mother. Her dagger drove into the exposed chest between ribs and collarbones. Her fury was such that her hand followed until the hilt of the dagger met the glob of flesh she sought and twisted. Wrenching her hand free of the pale chest, she leaned in close to Cydaea's ear.

            "You cannot feed from what is not given to you. Azmodan will join you shortly."

            Cydaea, Maiden of Lust, crumpled. The light powering the snare-circle faded. So too did the shadowy power around Killashandra. Stepping off the body as it began to collapse upon itself, she moved to where Kormac waited. He was again sagging against his arms and legs but managed to lift his head and turn to look at her over a bleeding shoulder.

            Sinking to one knee beside him, she used her own cloak to clean the demon blood off her hand as best as she could. Then, she used her untainted hand to lightly caress his back between the lash marks. He had not healed himself. Instead he had thrown everything he had into obeying a vague order to snare the demoness without knowing if it was correct or not.

            "Kormac, are you all right?"

            Still heaving for breath, the templar let his head fall forward once more. Worry gripped her only to be dispelled when he managed to give her a faint smile. "Is that all?"(4)

            Tempted to smack him over the head, she found herself smiling in return. The red in her eyes lingered as she found herself drawn to the scent of his blood. Most of it had been burned away in the explosion of Light. His back was a mess of bright red strips. And as she watched a fresh trickle of blood form and paint his flesh, she forgot her restraint to lean in and run her tongue along his ribs to catch the drop.

            He tensed at the touch, drawing a sharp breath. Undaunted, too caught up in her own unsatisfied need, she followed the trail to the split flesh. The taste of his blood was familiar. Of course all human blood had the same taste. But...with his flesh mingling with the metallic liquid, it made it fresh and unique. And then she remembered where she had tasted it before. The tower of Bastion's Keep when she bit his hand.

            "Shandra?" he asked uncertainly.

            Reaching forward, she pressed two fingers against his lips to silence him. Leaning over his back, she barely brushed her nose across undamaged flesh as she exhaled. The wash of air over open wounds made him tense further, breath halting against the nearly painful sensation. She could almost hear Kormac fighting within himself as she pressed the first light kiss to another unmarked spot.

            Whatever he was fighting, he made it clear he had come to a decision. The tension remained but was no longer resistant. His earlier words returned to her and she felt another shiver of desire pass through her body. Letting her hand fall away from his lips, she reached under his body to slowly stroke his chest. The flesh and muscle twitched as he resumed breathing. And as she trailed her fingernails lightly along the untouched skin to his abdomen, not all those harsh breaths were of pain.

            Still on one knee beside him, she slowly arched her body to press against his side. The hiss he made told her that her armor was cool despite the heat as he shivered against her. Bracing her arm across his back brought another soft sound through his quick breaths. Cool or not, it had to hurt to have something press upon the open welts. She almost purred as her lips found a mark on his shoulder to kiss.

            Her free hand curled about the rock-hard rise of his bunched bicep as she let her breath wash against his ear, "Do you still wish to give me what I need, Kormac?"

            It made him lift his head slowly enough not to connect with hers. Those beautiful green eyes were still bright with pain but dark with something else that actually excited her further. "You've screamed for me, bled for me, hurt for me, but are you really willing?"

            Kormac had to swallow several times as his heart thundered in his head. "I offered, Shandra. Did I not?"

            Her answer was to slide her fingers into his hair and help him raise his head a little further so she could claim his mouth. At first there was nothing. Then his lips moved with hers, dancing and crushing. She could sense he was still struggling but to taste him again and have him return the kiss...was enough. She devoured his mouth, bit at his lips until they were hot and tender against her own. But still his kiss was firm and filled with that sunlight and maleness unique to him.

            When she broke back to gasp for breath, her eyes flashed gold before she blinked and the crimson returned. Kormac was watching though, and he saw it. Jaw clenching, he purposely arched his back to slide one of the lash marks closer to her hovering fingers. The surge of fire at the barely-present contact of her flesh with naked muscle made him catch his breath. But she pulled her hand away.

            "Heal where I touch you, Kormac. And only where I touch you."

            Nodding, he let his head fall down once more to focus. She chose to make a game of it. One finger trailed ever so lightly along the edges of one deep red mark. A breath later, light shimmered and flickered in the wake of the contact as he narrowed his healing to just mend that one mark. Pleased, she began to slowly trace one mark after another with her finger, watching as he obeyed her every direction.

            There was no pattern to what she did, but to have him respond, obey, so flawlessly...it made her shiver with desire again. Removing her hand, she leaned over him and pressed her lips to a mark. Gasping sharply, he tensed as she ran her tongue on the edge of the wound. Taking the hint, he began to focus his Light along the mark she was trailing kisses along. Bloodied lips found wound after wound and he healed each one she chose.

            Finally, only a few shallow marks remained and she slid her hand over his tender but mostly whole back. It drew a shiver from him. A shiver she caught as her free hand again slid under his body, trailing her fingernails over his chest and painting random trails in the sweat and blood that had trickled there. And to her surprise, his nipples were hard when her palm brushed across them. It prompted her hand to fall down his toned stomach and abdomen to dare cup him.

            Kormac arched and gasped at the touch, eyes opening wide as if shocked to discover the firm flesh that met her exploration. Shuddering for an entirely new reason, his eyes closed tightly once more as she just held him through the cloth. Her fingers slowly shifted, almost caressing him and causing his hips to rock forward of their own accord. Pleased at the new note in his panting, she lightly bit down on his shoulder before resting her chin against the muscle.

            "I may have misspoken earlier, Kormac. Know that I don't want to break you. I want to possess you, completely. That night in the desert--"

            A sound from somewhere above made her go silent to listen. Head rising, her eyes narrowed to scan their surroundings. Nothing revealed itself. Lingering a moment more, she let her hand fall before beginning to rise back to her feet. As much as she craved to indulge, it was hardly the place. They had already been trapped once after all.

            "Let's get you up and see what we need to do to salvage your armor," she finally said and extended one hand.

            "Killa..." Kormac began. Then he noticed that the webbing pinning his hands to the ground was gone, as was the stuff that had been trapping his legs.

            "It crumbled with its mistress," she said with a shrug but the smile on her lips was ornery.

            The templar blinked then looked down at his arms as if they were to blame for his lapse of attention. Slowly, wincing at pain from the as-yet unhealed marks left on his back and the tenderness of freshly healed flesh, he got to his knees then to his feet. Although she watched him, she was gathering the strewn armor and seeing if there was any way to temporarily mend his mail to fit the plate over it. His shoulders rolled and flexed as he drew the leather tunic on--shirt beyond hope.

            Every small wince or extra shift as he adjusted to the throb of the shallow marks she had made certain to leave untouched on his back so he would not heal them made that hot pulse inside her grow. But now her hunger was manageable. It would serve until they had completed their task. And now that she knew for certain Kormac was willing, they had to talk. First, there was the sin heart to destroy and one final lord of hell to destroy. And before that--the mess of his armor to piece together.


	33. Betrayal

            The heat continued to rise as they made their way down yet another set of stairs amidst the innumerable ones they had already taken. There was one very noticeable difference when they reached the foot of these stairs compared to the rest. The heat struck them like a giant mace. It was powerful enough to bring the already heat-exhausted warrior crashing to his knees gasping for air amidst the thick cloud of sulfur and molten rock fumes. The hunter immediately turned at the heavy clatter of metal

            "Kormac!"

            Cool hands slid around his throat as a shadow blocked eyes seared by the pits of slag all around them. Instinctively, he relaxed into the relief of the cool touch, letting his head fall forward to rest against something solid. Of course it could only be one thing. And Killashandra doubted he would care if he was hiding his face against her armored stomach or not. She was actually very concerned about the way in which he just...fell like that.

            Sweat had immediately formed beneath her own armor, making the cloth and leather both stick uncomfortably to her skin but aside from making her head pound at the force of the temperature, she had not been toppled by it. As she waited for him to try and catch his breath, she thought over their actions of moments before. She should have had him heal himself fully and rest before pressing onward.

            "...how...can you...breathe...in this?" he finally managed to gasp.

            Bowing her own head to study his fallen form, she frowned. It was true. Her lungs felt dry, seared beyond belief. When she paid attention to the sensation it became a sudden urge to cough and choke on the stench alone. Eyes narrowing, she turned her focus back to him.

            "I do not care about the heat," she finally answered simply.

            "...is...that so-something...you tried...to tell...before?" he continued gasping.

            "Something like that. The talk about evil fearing the daylight, right?"

            He nodded heavily.

            "Try it, templar. Focus on the task ahead. Forget what you're breathing. Make yourself care only about destroying Azmodan. That is all that matters. Everything else is just a distraction."

            She listened to his harsh, desperate breaths for a few more minutes. When there was no change however, she chose to give in and try something else. Cradling the back of his neck with one of her hands, she freed the other to reach into one of the smaller pouches resting on the back of her belt. The jeweler, Covetous Shen, had given her a few things to help her on her way. Given how jewels were the only things on the man's mind besides food, she had merely accepted and forgotten about them.

            The gems were small but far from tiny. Glancing at them, she shifted three in her palm before sinking down to one knee before the templar. With care, she lifted his helm from his head to wedge one of the beautifully carved gems into the padded lining. Settling his helmet back in place, she let another gem drop down his chest then his back, minding their crude patch job. But the leather padding beneath the broken mail would serve.

            Almost instantly, there was a reaction as Kormac finally took a sharp breath, then another. He shuddered almost violently before lifting his head at last. The visible skin was violent red as if he had been too near the smithy's forges--but that was to be expected. Red-seared eyes were already clearing though and she found mild surprise that for once the mysterious old man had not been teasing about the gems.

            "What...is that?" Kormac asked, puzzled. One of his hands moved to his chest, a little above his stomach as if feeling what had slid beneath his armor.

            "Shen gave me some of his diamonds. He claimed that like his fire opals, they would cool me if needed in the heart of hell. I'm glad to see whatever enchantments he plied on them are working."

            Confusion touched Kormac's features as she saw both dark brows furrow behind the eye slit. But, clearly, he chose not to ask. Already that angry red flush was fading as his breathing calmed and evened out. It was still fast and harsh but no longer so labored. And as he recovered swiftly, he finally took note of how they faced one another. His eyes widened a little as she watched but he did not try to pull away.

            "Your discipline...must be far superior to that of mine, hunter," he finally mumbled.

            "That, or perhaps it is simply a nephalem thing."

            Grunting, he said nothing else as he rose. He was still unsteady so she did grab his arm when he almost overbalanced to help him to his feet. For a few moments he leaned on her before steeling himself once more. A cough or two came but he was clearly working on focusing as she had instructed. A smile touched her lips before she turned to pull away and continue onward.

            "We have fought our way to the depths of the crater. Azmodan cannot be far,"(1) Kormac said.

            Turning her head, Killa looked at him. Although he was breathing easier and walking almost normally, there was something about his posture that indicated something was on his mind. Perhaps the tilt of his head given he was studying the ground before him rather than looking around--even though with the molten rock lining the path, it would have been hard for him to see much anyhow.

            "Indeed, and the end of our task is nearly in our grasp," she finally said.

            "They say that Azmodan is the greatest battle commander in all the Burning Hells."(2)

            The hunter regarded him for a moment before a faint smile touched her lips. "He will fall as his brethren did before him.(3) Or, so I'm led to believe should I have listened to the rest of what they say concerning me."

            He lifted his head to look toward her in mild surprise. Those troubled green eyes lightened slightly as he understood. It was strange that nothing came to meet them as they continued. Then again, perhaps Azmodan had counted on the chamber itself to thwart them. The air was more poisonous gas than it was breathable. The heat was deadly in its own right since the molten stone of the crater's core was everywhere around them. Only the strange leathery ground separated them from the clinging liquid death.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            "Nephalem fool!" the fat slob of a demon before them spat. His spider-like legs looked more like thick insectoid blades supporting a misshapen table as great stitches marked his bulging gut and heavy hoops of metal pierced heavily sagging and flopping pectorals. "When the soulstone is embedded in my flesh, the Seven shall be as one within me! I will be the sum of all Hells--the Prime Evil!"(4)

            Nose wrinkling with mild disgust for the grotesque vision before her, she again found herself wondering at the Lords of Hell. So far they hardly lived up to the horrible and feared reputation they carried. In fact, as she glared at Azmodan's eyes in the flesh rather than through vision, she found part of an answer as to why they seemed to be so much less. She saw the fear sparked within.

            "You should have accepted Cydaea's offer. Now, you will die!" he roared.

            Killa only bowed her head forward to darken the shadows falling across her eyes. In the darkness the orange began to bleed into crimson. Her lips twitched then began to move as a smile began to spread upon her face. Azmodan feared her. That was enough to seal his fate. Whatever the last Lord of Hell saw in her eyes and her visage, it made him bellow as clawed bars shot upward through the stone floor of the chamber. Burning black chains stretched between the posts to form an inescapable circle around them.

            "Arrogant nephalem, my servants will feast on your pride as they devour your flesh!"(5)

            An unearthly howl echoed through the cavern that Azmodan had made his personal chamber. From the blackened chains, shadow formed, peeling molten metal away to take the shape of a racing wolf. Its eyes burned with the same bloody fire as the hunter as it leapt toward the demon from the side. Killa moved quickly around to the other side as Kormac charged into the opening left in the middle.

            Light flashed and burned at the cursed flesh with every attack the templar made, striking great blows with the sword that cleaved fat and flesh away from the demon's body. Metal rang loudly every time he blocked a blow from a flailing fist or sweeping leg. Each blow was powerful enough to drive the templar to one knee but always he used that position to drive his weight back into the fight and strike another blow.

            The wolf and hunter kept Azmodan busy as bolt after bolt drove into his obese body and began to eat away his flesh. The beast she had conjured used claws more like blades on its four feet to dig and kick at the hulking mass as those powerful jaws snapped and crunched and tore at the legs supporting it. Azmodan roared in pain and rage as he turned his attention toward the hunter.

            "Enough!"(6) he bellowed. From outside the chain barrier, darkness rose and flowed inward as if her arrows had struck the floor rather than his body. Founts of cursed blood were unleashed, oozing their corruption inward as demonic power smoldered against the black like trapped embers. It was the same coloring as her arrows. "The dark power of Hell will consume you!"(7)

            Nimbly leaping away from the sluggish spread of the pool that had erupted nearest her, Killa flipped through the air, twisting her body to bring her legs down and land lightly on her feet to strafe left. The templar had also either seen or sensed the encroaching ooze because he began to give ground, backing away from the stuff spreading beneath Azmodan and causing the demon to follow since he still could not get past the powerful blows.

            Another sense of darkness caught her attention however as the ground beneath her feet shifted. Not pausing to stand and puzzle, she danced backward just as something thrust itself up from the stone where she had been. The vicious-looking shape rose into the air, hovering with fire in its heart as a demon emerged from the portal exposed beneath it.

            "Kormac! Shield your back!" she called as she diverted her attention to the new threat.

            "Show them no mercy, for they shall grant us none!"(8) he shouted in response.

            Losing an arrow into the maw of whatever demon was climbing from the portal, she jerked her bow up. Another arrow was found and fired into the portal guardian. Diving to the side, she tumbled away as a great explosion rocked the chamber and sent shards of the guardian flying everywhere. The ground was still quaking as the corrupted blackness spread and she saw the signs of more portals being formed.

            "I've survived worse than this. Just a little longer!"(9) she called back.

            Running forward to each point of emergence, she dropped her caltrops in a hasty formation. The emerging demons howled in rage as they were caught stuck half in and half out of the portals. It enabled her to bring down the guardians hovering over their heads. But every time one was shattered and the portal closed, another would rise. It would be futile to take them all out.

            It was time to end it. Rising to her feet, she placed two arrows and altered her grip on the bow to lay it horizontal in a style she rarely used. Setting the bolts, she leveled the bow up as her eyes locked onto Azmodan's own. Firing from a point near her chest, she whipped the bow back up vertical only to notch another arrow and send it flying after the first two. They barely struck heavy jowls before the third hit the point of the inverted V-shape of the scar on the demon's belly.

            Azmodan howled in pain as black fire spread from the twin arrows--only for them to explode rather than devour. Great holes were blown into his flesh, exposing the spine beneath the flesh. The third spread ice so rapidly across the bulging stomach it crackled almost deafeningly. Kormac took that moment to throw himself forward in a charge as Light shone from the crystal upon his shield and raced along the blade of his sword. He struck that frozen spot with his full weight and shattered the ice and flesh it had locked within it.

            Killa drew one last arrow from the special slot in her quiver as her wolf sprang up to clamp its jaws into the sagging flesh around the exposed bones, falling to hang and force Azmodan's entire body to twist with the weight, further exposing his injuries from the other side. One last--oddly thick--arrow flew and struck that small point of bone. Kormac leapt away on some instinct and charged to the hunter's side as black fire raced over the muscle and bone.

            He brought his shield up to cover them both as the bolt exploded, taking Azmodan's head with it. Bone, gore, and fire struck the shield harmlessly as it splattered over the stone floor and across the oozing pools of corrupted darkness. The pools shuddered then flowed as fast as fresh blood toward the fallen demon lord. His corpse was sucked into them, thrashing and struggling even amidst his death throes.

            Crouched behind the shield, they watched by peeking over the top as the final Lord of Hell was consumed in an explosion of corrupted magic, taking all else with him. Even Killa felt the pull of the force but Kormac's free arm was around her waist, holding her steady. In fact, as the need for a kill dissipated, she realized just how tightly he held her pressed against his side. It was...wonderful.

            Then...it was over. And again came that odd feeling of dissatisfaction. Although the fight had indeed been more challenging than simply burning down lesser demons, she had expected far more from the lords of hell. Both that she had killed had been so...lacking. It left her concerned about her own feelings and relieved they were not the horrors everyone had been led to believe.

            "I expected more,"(10) Kormac murmured with disappointment she understood.

            Suddenly, the air near them changed. It was cooler and almost crackled with magic. Kormac stepped away and she briefly mourned the loss of his arm and the tight embrace. But it did not prevent her from immediately dropping one more caltrop and notching another arrow. At her side, he was also ready. It seemed, however, their alert was unnecessary as the portal that opened was not demonic in nature.

            Adria stepped through it first, with Leah and Tyrael following. Killa's eyes narrowed instantly at the convenience of the three's arrival. Unbidden, Kulle's words returned to her thoughts. But it hardly mattered if they were using her or not. She lived to kill demons. This was her purpose. If her goals aligned with those of others--and her thoughts turned to Kormac--then it was simply how things happened.

            "You've done it!" Adria announced. "Quickly now, Leah--trap Azmodan's essence within the soulstone!"(11)

            Leah stepped forward, breathing with difficulty in the heat and already glistening with sweat. She brought her hands up to focus and Killa saw the black soulstone rise from her hand to hover in the air near the glowing black stain where Azmodan had been. Suddenly the stain rose, pulled off the stone and gathered into a dark ball burning with cursed light. Clearly fighting, it was still pushed closer and closer to the waiting soulstone until it vanished with a flash of light.

            "It's done!"(12) Leah gasped, almost collapsing.

            "I never dared dream..."(13) Tyrael breathed as he drew closer to the redhead and her oddly un-phased mother. "All evil lies trapped within that stone! Once it is destroyed, the Eternal Conflict will finally end!"(14)

            Adria, the hunter noticed, appeared entirely unaffected by the heat that had stricken Kormac and Leah. Tyrael's lack of any reaction could be understood given his prior status as an angel. He could likely endure the fires of hell far better than any human. But the witch...Killa found that same sense of something wrong making her tense.

            "Destroying the stone is no simple matter. There are rituals to consider. We must return to the keep and make our final preparations,"(15) the witch said.

            Something about Adria was making the hunter's growing suspicions stronger. The woman was completely ignoring everyone and everything but for Tyrael, Leah, and the stone. Killa growled inside her head as she tried to make sense of this strange thing before her. Try as she might, it kept eluding her. Kormac sensed something from her as well since he moved closer and met her glare when she glanced at him. His eyes were still those of a warrior assessing a situation.

            Leah had retrieved the stone with her magic and they turned to the portal. Tyrael entered it first, followed by the red-head. As Killa turned her head back to regard Adria, she found the witch was staring at her for the first time ever. And then the hunter realized that it was also the first time she had made eye contact with Leah's mother. Because when she saw those eyes, she knew in that instant something was wrong. Adria smiled and turned to the portal.

            "Adria!" Killa started forward as the witch stepped through the glowing blue ring. Without hesitating or pausing to think of the possible consequences, the hunter raced the last few steps and followed her.

            "Killa!" Kormac shouted before she felt a rush of air, heard a pop, and crashed into snowy ground.

            The cold was a shock to her after so long inside such a hot place. But the force of what had apparently been a short fall sent her rolling through the cold white stuff. Coughing at the hard landing, she pushed herself up as she felt more than heard a solid impact nearby. Head snapping up, she looked just in time to see the portal hovering in the air about six feet above close. Kormac groaned as he struggled to right himself beside her.

            Brushing snow away from where it clung in melting cold against her face, she snapped it from her hood and looked around. Although the storm had broken, the Fields of Slaughter were still ice-locked and covered in snow. The wind was still blowing with its frigid ferocity. Even though they had mostly cleared the field, the sounds of distant skirmishes and the keep catapults remained.

            "What in the bloody Hells?" Kormac cursed, spitting melted snow from his mouth as his entire body immediately shook. The shock of temperature shift hit him as hard as the heat of the crater's chamber had. That and he had the diamonds under his armor.

            Making a decision, the hunter regained her feet and went over to grab one of his arms. "Come on, templar. We have to get to the keep quickly. But first, we have to get out of this wind."

            Teeth chattering beyond his control, Kormac just nodded as he managed to get to his feet. Rather than force him to walk on his own given the force of his shivering, Killa drew his arm across her shoulders and started to walk. Her sharp eyes scanned the field as she ignored her own shivers. A quickly etched rune summoned her bat to send it out searching from the air. It spotted what appeared to be a cave near them.

            Although she knew caves held their own troubles, it was shelter and it would do. Even through their armor, Kormac's shivering was getting worse. It distracted her enough that her own grew as well. Trying to ignore it, she made for the cave as the bat circled to watch for any lingering attack from demons or any other creatures that remained on the field. The chattering of her own teeth was lost in the rattle of the templar's armor as he stumbled and staggered his way beside her, more lurching than walking.


	34. Revelations and Respite

            The maw of the cave would have seemed foreboding to anyone else. Ice had formed sharp-looking protrusions along the stone and ground to make it look like the gaping jaws of a beast--or demon. Kormac was too cold to notice. Killashandra could have cared less. The moment they stepped into the darkness and out of the wind, the templar almost fell again. Only a quick twist and throwing her body away from him kept them both on their feet as he regained his footing.

            With him so affected, they would not be able to move that deep before his body would simply give out. The bat flew in behind them and a quick sigil transformed it from bat to wolf. The glowing red eyes scanned the darkness as it led them deeper and around a corner. Since their goal was not the depths of the cave, as soon as she found a spot that would serve for a defensible position, she sank down.

            The templar collapsed at last, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Jaw dropping to pop her ears and try to ease the ringing from them, she immediately shrugged her pack off. Unfortunately, Kormac's had been lost on their way through the crater. And while hers bore rips and marks from the creatures that had managed to get past her defenses or the templar's guard, her things were still intact.

            Trying to shut out the rattling from the chill-gripped man, she found her bedroll and immediately unrolled it to spread over the ground. Only then did she turn her attention to the wolf standing guard near them. A few swift commands to the magical creature and it bounded back the way they came to fetch whatever it could find made of wood. First priorities tended, the hunter turned to the templar.

            While his mail had more or less been torn apart, they had made hasty repairs to hold it together. She set to removing the man's armor quickly. The diamonds had to be removed first then he would have to be warmed until his body could adjust. Part of her mind was telling her that she had no clue if this would even work. The rest was focused on finding the small gems as she fought Kormac's involuntary tension and spasms to get his armor off.

            By the time she had gotten him back to the protective leather gear, the wolf had returned with a multitude of broken and shattered wood in its jaws. Dropping its find to one side, it went back out to fetch more. At least without the armor the noise had dropped to a more normal level. Tucking the man into the bedroll, she turned to her pack to tug free her tender kit. The wood her wolf had fetched consisted of shattered spears, hafts of axes, and several arrows. It would serve to start.

            Given the cave was frozen inside as well as out, she was hardly worried about the fire spreading so simply focused on coaxing a flame to life while cracking ice and crusted snow off the tinder. Soon, flames crackled to life and grew. Light spread through the part of the cave they had taken and pushed the darkness back. More wood was added and soon the small fire grew large enough she could feel the heat spread around her.

            Kormac's teeth were still chattering audibly. She turned, already reaching up and back to find the fastenings of the short cloak. It was the very reason her pack remained with her as it had concealed it for the most part. Even if the heavy leather-lined cloth would not be all that warm, a little would be better than nothing. Tugging her gloves from her own cold hands, she held them toward the fire briefly before reaching to touch his face.

            The skin was wet. He was sweating but gripped by chills so horrible he was still afflicted by hard spasms. Apparently he was still in his right mind enough to try fighting them. Only, the hunter was not sure if that was the right thing to do. Biting her lower lip as she honestly had no idea what to do in this situation, she followed her own common sense. Even if he was sweating, his skin was chilled.

            "Kormac?" she called, leaning in to study his face and the strange red suffusing it.

            If she did not know better, she would think he had a fever. Maybe she did not know better. His forehead and cheeks were actually cold once she wiped the sweat away with the skin around them burning hot. She knew how to take care of heat exhaustion, she knew how to treat frozen cold, she had no clue how to treat both at once. What worked for one did not work for the other. So...all she could do was follow what her current instincts were guiding her to do.

            The diamonds had been retrieved and they were now in the middle of winter. Despite the heat still rising from some points of his skin, he had to be kept warm in this environment. The fact he was still gripped in chills gave her hope her decision was the right one. And while her bedroll was for sleeping in the cold, if his own body did not manage to evenly warm him soon, he might fall even further. Especially since he was not responding to her. His eyes were tightly shut.

            Checking her things, she was mildly disappointed that Shen had not included some of those fire-opals he had mentioned. Not that she found fault with that. After all, she had not expected the diamonds to do what they did until shown. The fire was as large as she dared make it even though the wolf continued to find more broken bits of wood. And Kormac's body had not shown any sign it was going to stop shivering or ease up on the violence it was displaying.

            After a moment longer, and a small shiver of her own reminding her that she was not entirely unaffected by the sudden plunge from hot to cold either, the hunter fed the flames a little higher and began to remove her own armor. Part of her was growling at the delay--she had to get to the keep and find out what the witch was up to. This was no trap but it had set off her own inner alarms.

            But she could not leave Kormac behind like this. Once, yes. But not now. Not only would it make her little better than a demon herself, she simply could not bear to lose another person that she had...strong feelings for. Even then she refused to admit certain things. Shifting to crawl around and slide under the thick cover against the templar's back, she wound her arms around his violently trembling body and shifted to snare his legs with hers.

            She did not try to hold him still but she did make certain the more violent shudders were restrained enough to keep them both beneath the blankets and on the bedding between them and the cold stone beneath. His body was indeed cold against hers, felt through the leather she left on him and through the cloth she had stripped herself down to. Without truly meaning to, she shifted her head and nuzzled the wet hair away from his neck so the heat from her breaths could warm that spot as well.

            "It's all right, templar...it's going to be all right," she murmured. "Relax. Stop fighting it."

            It brought his scent to her every breath she took. Sweat, the lingering stench of the crater's super-heated fumes, blood, leather, metal...and Kormac. While the stench was something she could have done without, she enjoyed the other mingled scents as her arms tightened to give him a squeeze. The wolf returned as they huddled there, dropping its last fetch with the pile and turning to lie down at the edge of the fire watching the darkness of the cavern beyond.

            At last, she received a response, although it was not a completely positive sign.

            "Most of these soldiers are very young. Do you think any of them have even seen a real battle before this?"(1) he asked around still-chattering teeth.

            It made her wonder if he was even aware of his current surroundings. But at least he was speaking so she replied, "Those who survive this will be stronger because of it."(2)

            "The fact that these men have held out so long against such deadly foes is a testament to their fortitude,"(3) he muttered in a weary tone.

            "They've fought bravely. Azmodan will not win this keep without a fight,"(4) she tested his awareness.

            "Indeed, and we'll see the look on his face before we send him back to hell!" Kormac shuddered.

            Her concern was correct, he was not aware of where they were or that they had already destroyed Azmodan. One of her hands rose to press against his face. His cheek was no longer frozen but the sweat was warm rather than cold. She hoped that meant he had lapsed into a fever that would mean a step toward recovery. But she could do nothing to help him through it, this was his body's fight.

            Eventually, Kormac's shivering eased and lessened although a few more fevered mumbles escaped him. Killa gradually relaxed her hold and gave arms and legs protesting the constant strain time to relax. Without the need to fight unexpected bursts of involuntary action, the hunter found herself starting to doze off. The fire was warm and the wolf itself actually served as her hands to add tinder to it every so often. The strong body she was curled around was finally warming up and so was she.

            Motion brought her around although she had no clue if it had been a few moments or hours. Kormac shifted in her embrace and before she was fully coherent, she automatically released him. Not that he moved far. Opening her eyes, she saw he had merely turned to face her. Since he was between her and the fire, she could not tell the color of his skin or really see much to hint at his condition so she reached one hand toward his forehead.

            His hand was still cool where he caught hers but there was warmth beneath that did not feel that feverish. What made her wonder about that assessment was when he turned his head to press a kiss to her palm. That certainly snapped her fully awake as her eyes widened.

            "Kormac?"

            His body still blocked the firelight--revealing she must not have been asleep that long--and the shadow obscured his face. She certainly could not deny just that simple act made that empty need inside her surge to full notice once more. His lips were hot against her own slightly-chilled palm and they moved, parting so his teeth actually bit down lightly on the heel of her hand. Tensing with a sharp breath at the surge of lust that brought, she curled her fingers to press against his face.

            "Kormac...how are you feeling?"

            "Strawberry patch," he said.

            "What?" she asked, thoroughly puzzled. His face was hot beneath her hand.

            "You were eating the berries you were supposed to be picking," he said as his lips again found her palm and then moved to place a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

            Shivering for an entirely new reason, she tried to focus on what he was saying. A frown touched her lips and her brows furrowed. Uncurling her fingers, she pulled against his grip to try and touch his forehead. His hand relaxed a little but he was still brushing his lips against the sensitive flesh of her inner arm. His brow was feverishly hot.

            "There are no strawberries here, Kormac," she tried, grasping that his fever was still making him delirious. "You were dreaming."

            "No, I wasn't. You're older."

            That made her pause. Confused, she shifted to try and better see his face against the firelight. "What do you mean?"

            "I remember now. I don't know why I forgot it...save for what the order did. But...I knew I'd seen you sleep before."

            He was clearly mad. She felt a sinking in her heart and her stomach that helped to kill that delicious tingling below. Even if she wanted him, she would not take advantage of him when he was not in full possession of his senses.

            "Rest, Kormac. You're still burning in fever."

            He moved suddenly, startling her as she found herself on her back gazing up at him where he almost straddled her body. It brought a rush of cold air between them as the covers shifted. Before she could reach for them, he had already drawn them back up over their bodies. But his other hand had fallen to one of her shoulders where the sleeveless shirt left it bare. His fingers traced a pale, silver scar on the outside just an inch below the meaty part. The scar was almost like a bird in flight spotted at a distance.

            "I remember this too," he said and he had her undivided attention. "The river. A bunch of boys trying to show off. A fishing hook."

            Eyes widening, Killa took a sharp breath as the memory struck her. He felt her body tense and it drew his gaze to her eyes. His burned bright with fever but...there was something within the way he looked at her that told her he knew what he was talking about. That and she doubted even in the midst of her own injury-induced madness in the keep, she had revealed such secrets since he had told her she had not.

            Slowly, his thumb caressed the scar as his hand curled about her shoulder. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he just breathed for a few moments.

            "One of the boys went to cast his line into the water. But he drew his arm back too far and did not pay attention to what was behind him. When he went to cast, his line caught on something and made him drop the pole. His father had to take the hook out of the girl's arm with a knife."

            Kormac slid his hand away from her shoulder to rise and touch her face. His thumb brushed across her lips which parted beneath the touch as he traced her chin. "A girl that had been picking wild strawberries...and fell asleep in the patch while eating them instead of putting them into her basket."

            "How...could you know that?" she finally managed to ask as her lips tingled beneath his thumb.

            "Because it was my hook," he said simply.

            Shock warred with the sensations he was evoking within her at every simple touch. It took her a few moments before she shoved the chaos from her mind to worry about later when she had time to pull the past up and study it. Whatever he saw change in her eyes though, he did not approve since he lowered his head to brush their lips together. It made her forget the protest she was about to make.

            And damn the man, he was doing this on purpose! But she was only so strong. And as he made her lips tingle and throb with want, she lifted her head a little to claim that offered kiss. Just one kiss then she would make him rest until the fever eased up enough for him to be able to follow her to the keep. One kiss--that she forgot herself in as he actually took a little control to invade her mouth. That small action made her moan with the frustration that had built up over the past weeks.

            Unconsciously, her hands had moved to curl into his leather vest and grip tight. As she fed from him, tasted him, she found herself squirming to get closer as he lowered his weight against her, arms embracing her but permitting his hands to slide into her hair and caress her face, throat, and shoulders. It was so different than things she had been imagining that all she wanted was more.

            He shifted and his hips pressed down against hers. There was no mistaking that he wanted this as much as she did. Even though she had grasped him before, the sensation of that hard length against her body made her break the kiss to gasp sharply at the sheer difference. Kormac's eyes held a spark of that warm golden light against green and there was a gentle smile on his parted lips as he caught his breath.

            "Shandra..."

            A groan came from her, much to her surprise. The way he said her name sent a shiver along her back through her entire body. That tiny voice in her head warned her she had to stop this before it went too far. Just as her tongue darted over throbbing, sensitive lips, his hand slid between them and made her arch up hard beneath him when his fingers caressed the fire through her leather pants and the cloth beneath.

            For another brief moment, she was ready to remind him of his vows and put an end to it before she lost control. Then she made the mistake of looking into his eyes once more. The mishmash of emotions within them were powerful and some she could not name. But it was the heat in his gaze that made her go still and stare. Light and warmth, something...familiar, achingly familiar, and she could feel it like a long-lost dream that it hurt to wake from.

            He reacted to her before she was even aware of the first burning hot sting from tears sliding from the corners of her eyes. Caressing them away, he lifted his head to press a kiss to her brow. And finally, she was undone when he whispered, "Shandra."

            Choking on the emotions the mention of her past had stirred, she lifted her head to claim his mouth for a deeper kiss. His arm slid under her for support as he began to move his hand slowly to rub against her sex. Arching up against him once more, she writhed, pushing her hips toward the sensation only to have his press her back down. Her growl only seemed to make his attentions that much stronger.

            Forgetting why it would be taking advantage of him, her hands slid up over his chest and found the fastenings on his vest. It opened under her touch as easily as if the leather had just been waiting for it. Kormac's heart raced powerful and hot under her hand as she touched his bare flesh once more. Oddly, it felt like the first time every time even if she knew better. But there was a richness about the taut flesh and hard muscle beneath that she might never tire of.

            And Kormac was apparently thinking the same thing as he withdrew his hand from between her legs to slide his palm up along her body over her stomach. Her own top bunched before he found and fumbled with the ties. A breath of chill air managed to sneak between them and caress her a moment before the warmth of his hand moved along her ribs and up to slowly cup her breast.

            Breaking the kiss, she gasped for breath as he gazed down at her once more. She could not bring herself to look into his eyes again so he bowed his head. Her own tilted back when his lips found her throat to trail those soft, warm kisses along the column to the juncture of her collarbones. Then his tongue flicked across the hollow there as his hand gently squeezed the heavy curve it cradled, making another shiver take her as she gasped for a breath.

            Tenderly, Kormac drew her top open and continued to trail those gentle kisses along her chest between her breasts. His breath tickled a sensitive spot and made Killa's breath hitch. Pausing, he lifted his head. When she still refused to meet his gaze, he returned to his attentions as hot breaths warmed the cloth supporting her breasts. Then--in a move she hardly expected from the righteous templar--he caught the ties of the garment between his teeth and tugged them free.

            Glancing down, she found herself caught in watching him bare one breast then the other. The cold that again crept between them made her shiver suddenly as her nipples hardened and sent tingling jolts through her body. Then his hand moved to cup the untouched breast as his breath heated the other, washing over the hard bud and making her squirm before his lips brushed it. This time her growl came for other reasons.

            He had made it extremely hard to think--more so when he actually flicked his tongue across the sensitive bud. Panting, she arched upward again, pushing toward the sensation and feeling his mouth close around her. The sharpness of his teeth was a pleasant balance to the firm press of his lips and teasing of his tongue. It almost made her forget what she had been going to say. Almost.

            "Kormac..." she moaned as he suckled. But her hand went to his head, gently gripping his hair and tugging to demand his attention. He broke away, making her shiver when the moisture left was chilled by the air.

            "...where did you learn all of this?"

            The templar was clearly confused for a few moments. Although, when she squirmed again, the hard heat against her thigh told her it was probably due to something other than just fever. He groaned, hips pressing against her leg in effort to keep them both still.

            "Promising...soldier of Westmarch...remember?" he panted.

            For just a moment she wanted to feel jealous. But it was too much a relief to know this was not some demonic trick and she was not imagining it. Relaxing her hold, she combed her fingers through his hair. Although she did not say anything else, he apparently decided an explanation was necessary.

            "I was--"

            She chose to quiet him with another kiss. Later she might want answers. But the air was cold and he had pulled too far away for her comfort. Kormac apparently decided to continue following her lead because he again invaded her mouth as she moved beneath him. She had bared his chest in her explorations and her nipples grazed the warm flesh as their bodies came together again.

            It was his turn to break back for air. And he shifted his weight to free one arm so he could begin working on her leather pants. His lips were still busy though, brushing heated, gentle kisses along her face back to her ear as his breaths came in heated rushes that stirred her hair against her throat and shoulder. Killa took the chance to slide her hands back down his chest to his stomach and work at the ties of his breeches.

            When one hand slid a little too far down purely by accident, the hard heat she felt even through the leather made her shiver. Kormac groaned as if in pain as he rocked his hips toward the contact then made himself pull away. For just a moment, all that dark desire rose once more to fill her as her entire body trembled in the grip of want. She could turn the tables, take full control, just as she had with Lyndon. In that moment with the back of her hand pressed against him, she knew all she would have to do is turn and give him a squeeze.

            This time, she chose to go a different route. She had enough of darkness in the lair of the demons. What he was giving her...she found to be far more precious. Easing her hand away, she hooked her thumbs into the waist of his breeches and pushed them down slowly. Only then, as Kormac rested partially on his hands and knees over her, did she finally remove the cloth protecting him to take his naked flesh in her hand.

            The sound he made was sweeter and stronger than any scream or cry he had given her before. It made her gasp and shudder as if a bolt of lightning had just struck her. It left a painfully desperate need as her hand tightened to squeeze and stroke him. His hips moved toward her hand as she felt the full length of him meet her touches, hot and hard but somehow soft like...a man's cock was supposed to be.

            Unaware of her own panting, she squirmed down a little to look along their bodies and actually see the shape of what her hands were caressing. Lyndon had been very good, but Kormac...was perfectly formed. Groaning, she closed her eyes as another shudder of need gripped her. Misunderstanding, the templar sank down and pulled the blankets up over their shoulders again.

            Hardly minding, Killa continued to stroke him slowly as her own body heated and grew wetter. At last, she had enough. Kormac beat her to her own leggings though. His hands were suddenly there as well, urgently tugging the buckle and laces and sliding them down. Raising her hips, she squirmed to help him as his head fell to press his head against the ground and his brow against her shoulder for support since he was using both hands.

            Then cold air rushed between them as he drew back and moved off her legs. Between their efforts, the leggings and her undergarment were down and she brought her legs up just enough to get them off completely. Even before she had settled, his hands were on her thighs to guide them apart as he sank down. Warmth fell around her once more as her arms moved up to slide into the open jerkin and wind around his body.

            Neither were willing to shed all clothes in the chill but apparently they were of one mind about it. As he settled between her thighs, another sort of thrill took hold the moment that heavy, hard length pressed against her bared abdomen. His breath was a hot blast against the curve of her throat and shoulder as one of his hands returned to move between their bodies. The touch of his fingers was light but electric as the hunter jolted with a cry.

            As he pressed one finger against her hot flesh, she felt him slide almost instantly. Raising her hips in clear demand, she shifted so his finger entered her. The sensation after hours of unfulfilled desire was enough to make her clamp down on him as her body shuddered. Kormac's gasp was lost in her own gasping sounds as her body locked him inside, convulsing with surges of additional heat and wetness every time she bucked beneath him.

            Moaning, she sagged back to her bedding and just tried to catch her breath. But the unexpected release only made her that much more sensitive as he pressed his finger deeper then withdrew, beginning to caress the trembling walls slowly. Digging her fingernails into his back made him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure. Realizing he still had some wounds there, she quickly released him and opened her eyes to look toward his face.

            Kormac's eyes were tightly closed, mouth slack as he panted. But there was no pain or agony visible on his face. When he opened his eyes to look at her...all she saw was light and hunger. It nearly stole her breath--and did when he thrust two fingers into her without warning. There was no pain, she was too slick, too ready for it, but the surprise and sensation robbed her of any hope at reason.

            "Kormac!"

            She was unaware that her fingernails again bit into his back, breaking the skin as she wrapped both long legs around his waist and held on. Her grip made him groan at the sheer strength and his hand was moving faster to make sure she was ready to take him. Every time he touched her it was that jolt of lightning again, hot and leaving her writhing and panting in its wake as her body tingled everywhere.

            Then, he finally withdrew his fingers and gripped her hip with one hand. On some instinct, she relaxed her legs and slid a little away from his body. Just as she looked up at him, he brushed her hot folds with the tip of his cock. That dark hunger was suddenly back and she brought her head up as glowing eyes locked on the templar's face. It made him pause when that burning glare found him, but from the way his cock twitched, it thrilled him.

            "I will not break, templar," she growled from deep within her chest. "But if you tease me any longer, I will break you...understand?"

            He nodded once, too consumed by his own desire to think of anything beyond her body. A body that rose to meet him as he pressed against her entrance, then thrust forward. The cry of pure desire that fell from her lips made him push deeper into the tight grip, rocking mindlessly as the wet walls contracted around him. Even as her legs again tangled around his hips to pull him to her, she was pulling him from within.

            It was a throbbing pleasure as he thrust, but she loved it. All she could think of was getting more as he drove deeper and deeper. Her body burned with need and with the fullness as he opened her with every additional inch. Gasping, moaning, crying out, she writhed under him as he claimed her. Finally, but somehow all too soon, his hips pressed tight against her and he could go no further.

            Both surrendered to the need for air, holding still for a moment. It was then that she took conscious action to again remove her fingernails from his back. His hands slid under her body between her shirt and her flesh to caress her. Arching slowly, Killa moved with the touch like a pleased feline. Her own hands soothed the marks left by her fingernails as she finally managed to open her eyes and look at him.

            Kormac was watching her. She saw the light burning in his eyes along with his want, his need, his hunger...and something far more powerful. It made her have to look away. But, his fingers caressed her face gently, touching her cheek with the slightest bit of pressure as his thumb caressed the other side of her chin. It was a plea. Slowly, she looked back to him and made herself meet the look in his eyes.

            Hers began to sting again as her vision blurred. The tears were coming again and this time she did not look away. Kormac leaned down and barely brushed his lips to the tip of her nose. Only then did he move an instant before his lips again found hers. Gasping, her mouth opened at the sensation of him withdrawing only to fill her once more. In that moment, he kissed her again.

            Abandoning her pain and her memories, she surrendered to the sensations and the pure warmth of every touch. Their bodies moved together with ease as her hands slid along his sides and over his back, clinging to him and tightening around him every time he withdrew. It made each time he returned that much more as they never once thought about pace or rhythm. They moved as they had trained to move, working together.

            The thrusts came faster, harder as Kormac drew closer to his peak. Each pulsing twitch of his cock filling her, stroking in and out was pushing her rapidly toward another, higher peak. Suddenly all they wanted was to reach it as their mouths devoured one another. Rolling her hips, arching her back to drag her breasts along his chest every time their bodies met, the jolting, pulsing sensations were all she knew until he suddenly found a spot deep inside her that made her break back with a cry.

            Startled, he suddenly understood exactly why she craved hearing him cry out. Her voice in that one moment shook him more powerfully than any blow, attack, or faith he had ever felt before. Thrusting forward to try and find that spot again, he was rewarded by another cry before Killa jerked and slammed herself down against him. Something almost soft brushed the tip of his length a moment before her body tightened around his.

            He fell a moment after she did, letting his cry follow hers as he exploded, hips rocking on pure instinct to fill her with every surge of seed. Each time his cock pulsed, she contracted around him from the sensations flooding her. Writhing, crying out, she raked her fingernails across his back in mindless bliss before he finally fell atop her, gasping for breath that simply could not catch up with his need for air. Beneath him, her chest was also heaving as she gasped, collapsing into a twitching, trembling aftermath.

            Neither were aware when they fell asleep in the sweaty, sticky tangle. Only the conjured wolf bore witness to how they rested together, still trembling from the force of their release. Only the bloody red eyes watched as Kormac instinctively shifted his weight to one side rather than crush the hunter. Only the magical beast's gaze saw when the hunter unconsciously laced her fingers with the templar's to hold his hand over her heart before the blankets slid forward to conceal it.

            In the darkness of the cave with only the firelight, the wolf turned its head back to the gloom leading deeper into the cave. And in the darkness...its eyes shifted from crimson to gold as it rested its head on its paws to wait.


	35. Dream of Strawberry Fields...

_"Papa, why's mama needa healer?" she asked._

_The tall figure beside her smiled warmly before reaching down to tousle her hair affectionately. Giggling, she batted at the large hand only to squeal when she was suddenly swept up into the air. Grabbing hold of the strong arms, she squirmed away from the anticipated tickles. None came but her short hair was again ruffled._

_"Papa!"_

_He set her back on her feet and helped her smooth her hair back down, although she knew mama would get after her for all the tangles later. Taking the big hand in hers, she held onto three of the fingers--a feat proving she was growing up to be a big girl._

_"Your little sister's a bit too eager to say hello to you. She wants to come play before she is ready. And your mother needs some help so that your sister isn't hurt."_

_She always loved the sound of her papa's voice. It was always so certain, so strong, so deep. No one in the world could ever be so strong as her papa! He might not have been clanking around in metal like the guards she saw on the streets but she bet he could easily take them down! Tall as the trees, stronger than a rock, faster than the wind--proven when he suddenly tickled her neck._

_Laughing, she batted at his hand until he left off. Unable to stop snickering under her breath, she just tried to keep up with his long legs as she held onto his hand. The streets were pretty full since it was a beautiful summer day with a nice cool breeze to chase the heat of the sun away. But it did get pretty hot in the city, especially further in. Luckily, the healer's place was closer to the outskirts._

_Her papa knocked on a door and it opened after a moment. She smiled up at the worried-looking woman to answer and managed to get a smile back. A few things were said that she could not understand but it made her papa's smile fade a little and he squeezed her hand. It meant he was worried about something._

_"Papa, is mama okay? Did my sister come?"_

_Turning, he sank down to one knee before her and the smile was back._

_"Your mother's fine, just very tired. It's a lot of work to bring a baby into this world. Now, will you be a big girl for me?"_

_A little worried at that, she still puffed up and stood as straight and tall as she could._

_"I'm already a big girl, papa!"_

_"Yes, yes you are. And I want you to be on your best behavior. Your mama needs me, so why don't you go play where we saw the other children playing a few days ago?"_

_"Out by the water?!" she yelped and immediately clapped her hands over her face when the woman shushed her._

_"Yes, by the water. But you don't go into the water, all right? Why don't you see if you can find something special to bring your mama and lil-sis?"_

_"Like...flowers?"_

_Her papa smiled and nodded. "Yes, or some of those stones your mama loves, the really smooth ones."_

_"Maybe there'll be shells!"_

_"Good girl. Now, remember the rules?"_

_"No going in the water. Stay in sight of a guard at all times. Don't go out of sight of the wall. Don't touch the spiny plants. Don't talk to any adult not in official uniform. Don't take anything offered by strangers," she said slowly to make sure every single word was pronounced correctly._

_"That's my girl. If I'm not there when your stomach growls, you come straight back here, understand?"_

_She nodded quickly. But her papa gave her a stern look from his brown eyes._

_"Can you find your way here, princess?"_

_"Yes! I remember the way. And if I'm lost, ask a guard!"_

_"Good girl. Your new sis will be here by the time you get back."_

_He gave her a tight hug despite her squirming, playful protest it was too tight. Another ruffle of her hair and he lightly patted her rear to send her on her way. Waving to the lady, she gripped her favorite toy tighter and made a bee-line for the door. Once outside, on her own, she felt a little nervous. Not discouraged at all, she took a deep breath then stepped onto the street and started to walk._

_Her confidence grew as she found her way to the edge of the buildings and saw the first hints of sparkling water not that far away. Skipping ahead with a large grin, she headed toward the river. Other children were also about, playing games or sprawled in the shade of the trees. Some were fishing and some were watching those littler than they were. There were several mamas and papas there as well and they were friendly enough to wave back to her._

_For a while she did look for flowers. But flowers hardly seemed special to her, they died too quickly when picked. And the ones pressed between paper to dry were always stiff and smelly. So, she went closer to the water to peer into the sparkling, clear ripples and see if she could find any stones near the shore without going into it. After a while and a few finds, she grew bored with it._

_The laughter from further along the river had her glance up and look around. She was still in sight of most of those enjoying the day. And she could see a guard walking past on patrol near the walls. Satisfied she was following the rules, she started searching for shells. That got boring even faster. But as she walked along the shore, she did find something that was perfect!_

_Since her family traveled a lot, her mother had taken to showing her how to find things to eat and identify bad plants. And the familiar spiky-shaped leaves of deep, deep green without the shiny surface of poison made her catch her breath. A few flowers of white with yellow hearts were glimpsed there too. But what she was looking for was the rich red gems partially hidden by those dark leaves. Strawberries!_

_Mama loved strawberries! It would be perfect! She had even brought along her own personal basket that she could carry them in--even if it had been her papa that insisted she take it with her. Tucking her toy into the sash at her waist, she remembered to look for any marker indicating the patch was claimed or owned. Nothing. The grin grew as she dropped to hands and knees to start searching for berries._

_For every one that did get put into the basket, she ate two more. They were small but so plump. The juice was sweet with a hint of tartness that often came from early berries not fully ripe just yet, but ripe enough to eat. As she moved, she did not realize that she was out of sight of the guards and other people--the patch was untouched due to its hidden spot. Making her way further into it as she cleared herself a path, she kept munching._

_Eventually though, basket partially full, she sat down and just nibbled on her find as she watched the sunlight dance over the water. The sound of the river and the people nearby along with the warmth of the day and a full tummy made her sleepy. Content, happy, relaxed, feeling completely safe, she had no idea when she fell asleep._

_Something stabbed into her arm. It hurt! Jolted from her nap, she screamed and grabbed for her arm as whatever bit her yanked hard. It bit her hand where she touched it and made her cry. Shouts came from somewhere as she realized she had no clue where she was. What happened? Disoriented, confused, hurt, she burst into more tears as she saw blood on her arm._

_"Here now! What's this?" shouted a man._

_"We didn't know she was there! We didn't mean to!" a boy said._

_"Is she okay?" another asked._

_"Somebody's in trouble!" a third--or was it the first?--said._

_"Dad! DAD!" another kid shouted._

_"Shhh, here now, it's okay, shhh..." came a different adult voice._

_"I didn't mean to!" one of the boys cried._

_None of the voices were familiar but someone with gentle hands was there and lifting her up. It was not her papa! Just as she was ready to scream again, she was released. Her hands found metal over what she thought was a chest. Trying to scrub the tears out of her eyes, she found herself looking up at one of the city guards. He did not have his helmet on but he had the armor. She immediately tried to stop crying but her arm hurt!_

_"Here, it's okay. Let me see..."_

_He was tapping and tugging at her arm and she let him pull it up. There was blood there and something sticking out of her arm under the shoulder. Sniffling, she bit her lip and looked away._

_"Ah, looks like the hook's clean. No worms for you, little miss. But it's pretty deep. Here, chin up."_

_The guard was nice but it still hurt and she was scared. More scared when she saw him pull a small knife from his belt._

_"Now, breathe miss. How old are you?"_

_Still sniffling, she rubbed her nose against her other arm. "S-six."_

_"My, six? That's not much younger than my boy there. Is your mother nearby? Father?"_

_"No, p-papa's wi-ith mama...at th-the h-healers."_

_"Oh, are they visiting?"_

_"Mama's ha-aving my si-is."_

_"Well then, you'll be a big sister soon! Do you know what that means?"_

_"No?"_

_He leaned in closer as if about to share a secret. Even with breath hitching, she tried to listen._

_"It means that you get to protect her, being the eldest. Maybe even show her how to beat up boys that pick on little girls."_

_Eyes going wide, she stared at him, then past him to the three boys that were nearby. Another guard was standing near them and a fourth boy was hiding partially behind him. Suddenly, there was another sharp sting in her arm and she gasped, eyes tearing up again. She saw the sun flash off the knife blade._

_"There we go! No more hook," the guard speaking with her said as he held it up for her to see. "And no worm or fish-guts to worry about. Let's fix that up and see you back to your papa."_

_Surprised, she suddenly forgot the pain as she narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at the guard that was even then starting to tie a bit of cloth around her arm._

_"You tricked me!"_

_"Did I?" he asked gently._

_"Yes!" she said. "But...it didn't hurt as much..." she admitted._

_"Well, I am sorry for the trick but I was trying to make it fast. Am I in trouble?"_

_She knew he was playing with her just as her papa did and she could only smile at that as she scrubbed the last tears away._

_"Maybe. But not really. Thanks."_

_Nodding, the man shifted to stand. He reached down and lifted her to her feet, minding her arm. Feeling a little light-headed, she stumbled before straightening. She took the armored hand he held out to her and saw he had her basket in his other hand. Nodding, he turned to head back toward the city with her in tow. His partner stayed with the boys, although she noticed one looking after her with the guiltiest expression on his face._

_Guilty...green eyes. Guilty eyes...of green. The cat yawned and stretched before bounding away from the puddle of spilled milk. Huffing, she glared after it and went to right the fallen milk container. None was left but at least it had not gotten into the rest of their supplies. Making sure the dried fish had not been filched by the cat again, she hissed and swatted at the bedding to send the feline darting out of the room._

_Standing, she tossed her shoes atop her bed along with her dirty socks and took her little sister's stuffed toy with her on her way outside. The village was still lively despite the fact the sun had set not long before. Men had started a great bonfire while a few that knew how to play were working on their family-owned instruments. Aside from a guitar, everything else was made pretty much on a whim. Drums were buckets or a few deep-sounding pots. Flutes were made from reeds._

_It was a night for celebration. The harvest was finished, the stock was plentiful and fat, and everything was right in the world. Already the feast was halfway over with more food being placed whenever someone felt they needed to make some more. Dancers were starting to move as the players started a jig. And she saw her papa on the far side of the fire with mama, pulling her into a dance as well._

_Smiling at the sight, she ducked among the others as she sought her sister's favorite hiding place. Entering the stable area, she climbed up to the low loft among the dry hay and straw. The window-like door was open and sure enough, there was her sister, sitting with legs kicking over the edge watching with a big grin and bouncing slightly in place. Flopping down on the hay beside her, she offered the toy._

_With a squeal, the girl grabbed it to smoosh against her chest and face. Laughing, the bright blue eyes went back to the motion below. She settled to watch as well. Adults and children alike were dancing and laughing below. From the spot in the loft, it was almost lonely. But she would not change anything for the world. Her little sister loved her and always seemed to prefer watching from a distance._

_That was fine with these people. Up here they could not see her strange wide-spaced eyes or pixy-cute face. Up here they were not bothered and were happy to be left alone. Up here, she did not have to beat up some stupid brat for picking on her sister for looking and being different. And up here, it was far better to see what was going on. But...it never did let her see the warning signs or let her shout an alarm until too late._

_Not until the bonfire flared in a sudden gust of wind. Not until the flames rose in a towering column. Not until the music faltered. Not until the people paused to look. Not until the night came alive. And never until she saw the flames explode to consume those nearest as the first nightmare rose from the pit of the fire to grab the nearest villager and tear her in two. It was always the same._

_Blood flew, splattering in dark arcs as the villagers stared uncomprehending. Then it grabbed another and the screams erupted. People scattered only to crash into one another. Some of them barely got a few steps before dropping to the ground and tearing at their own thrashing bodies as they screamed. She watched them rip themselves open, twisting and breaking their own bones._

_Nightmares were everywhere, swarming amongst the screaming villagers--tearing their way out of some of the panicked people to turn their bodies and attack friends and loved ones. From the edges of the village, more demons came, crimson-fleshed with bone-chilling laughter. They brandished spiked clubs, shattered maces, or just their own fangs and claws, or even the still-living, broken and twisted bodies of lesser nightmares with spikes of bone and grasping claws._

_She sat frozen in the loft as she saw one demon that was a twisted vision of a man attack her mother. She saw him drive one clawed hand into her mother's stomach and tear her open to rip her innards out. Even as her mother screamed, her attacker tore her apart, shattering her ribs and breaking the ribcage open to get at her heart. Two lesser demon-things tore the dying woman's legs from her body._

_And her father...the strong, unwavering, fierce man that could never fall...brought a flaming knot of wood down on the head of her mother's murderer. Fear and shock strangled her and kept her from screaming when a skeletal monstrosity rose behind him. Even as the man-demon he was attacking warded off the next blow, multiple spikes broke from her father's chest as the demon behind him lifted him into the air._

_It held him there, hissing as her mother's killer produced a strange ivory weapon. He used his free hand to tear away her father's shirt and began slicing the flesh, carving strange symbols into the struggling man's body. Even as he screamed, her father looked up--and met her eyes. Squeaking in terror, she suddenly found she could move as one word left his bloody lips._

_"RUN!"_

_Without thinking, she grabbed her little sister up and threw herself backward into the loft. Only then was she aware her sister was screaming non-stop at the top of her lungs. Clapping her free hand over the open mouth to muffle the scream, she stumbled toward the ladder. Falling from the loft into the straw below winded both of them and made her sister quiet. Driven by terror and the scream of her father in her ears, she clung to the thrashing body and struggled up to run._

_There was a small back door to the stable that led to a fenced area. The fence was low and the wooden beams widely spaced. She managed to get through and drag her thrashing, moaning sister with her. Picking the smaller form up, she ran from the growing flames, the screams and roars and shrieks behind as she went into the night. Nothing stopped her. Nothing noticed her. Nothing...but the trees she was crashing through._

_Branches whipped and tore at them. She felt them sting her face, her arms, knew they struck her sister too. But she did not stop. Not until she burst free of the trees onto uneven ground. Flight gripped her and she kept going. Tripping, stumbling, her knees bled and her legs and hands both became bloody with scrapes and cuts. Only when her body could not continue without air did she stop as she crashed into the ground and tumbled, trying to shield her sister._

_Lying there, gasping for breath, all she could hear was the screams in her head, her own straining breath and racing heart, her coughing attempts to get more air. Her head spun even though she knew she was sprawled on the ground. Eventually, her vision cleared and she could see the orange glow that had been the village in the distance. Flame and smoke rose into the night sky like a horrible beacon._

_Finally able to collect herself, she got sluggish, throbbing arms and legs to work and rolled over. Peering into the dark, she saw the shape of her sister where the girl had fallen. Only as she began to crawl toward her did she hear the wailing moans and bright giggles. Her sister had been special since the moment of her premature birth. Unable to hear, a simpleton that made noises instead of words, looked strangely inhuman with wide-set eyes and small chin, gums with short teeth rather than full._

_Reaching out for her, she gave the girl a gentle shake. Instead of turning or screaming, a moan came and she curled into a tighter ball. Still scared, knowing they were too close to the nightmare, she started to pull her sister up to move. Teeth sank into her arm so suddenly she cried out. Eyes wide, she looked down only to barely avoid the clawing hands reaching for her face._

_An inhuman scream came from her sister's mouth as she attacked, biting, snarling, clawing like a wild thing. Falling backward again, she warded off the blows. Something hot splattered her face and she watched aghast in the faint glow of the village fire as her sister tore her own skin off, hitting an eye that burst under her fingernail. And her sister was laughing as she attacked again and again._

_Scrambling away, she felt her hand close on something heavy that fit into her hand. As bone cracked, she realized that she had grabbed a branch and brought it down on the arm that was extended, raking fingernails along her leg. Her sister roared as her eyes burned in red light--and she heard a snap and a rush of air. The girl's body jerked and went tumbling away. The moans stopped as her sister went still. In shock, lost, terrified...she looked for the source of what had attacked them._

_There were figures moving in the dark, blending into it. Two of them. They approached her steadily and she knew even if she tried to run, they would catch her or take her down before she could take a step. Suddenly...it ceased to matter. Everything was gone. Everyone she loved...dead...or dying. She had even failed to protect her little sister who had never done anyone any harm._

_Hurting, terrified, confused, she got to her hands and knees and slowly made herself push up to get to her feet. Her entire body was a giant throbbing wound, scrapes and cuts stinging, bite and claw marks pulsing. But it paled in comparison to the ache in her chest and throat as she swallowed and lifted her head to look at them. Their eyes glowed gold in the night like wolves before her._

_And she glared at them, raising her head high. They stopped before her as she stood, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face, fists clenched at her sides. One tilted its head--and offered her a very human, gloved hand..._


	36. Keep Moving

            When she woke, it was not with screams or thrashing. Although anyone else might have done so after the dreams that had come, Killashandra was used to them. Dreams for her always ended the same horrible way. She used them to keep her hatred and rage powerful and focused. Her second mentor had been a little concerned upon learning such a fact but in the end he had agreed it served her well and was a useful tool. However, she did often shift around restlessly during the dreams which was likely why she had turned to face the fire.

            A warm, solid body was curled around hers, conforming easily to her back. Powerful arms were around her waist and one leg was draped across hers. The position was so unfamiliar and new that she just lay there staring at the nearly-dead flames and let the sensations wash over her. It was not a bad way to wake up in truth, pleasant. And it left a strange warmth inside her that she had never felt before. It was...the most disconcerting thing because it did not concern her.

            Then the arm draped over her shifted and his hand moved away from her heart to gently curl around one of her breasts. Although it should have seemed more sexual, the intimacy of the gesture was something else entirely. Kormac's breath was warm and steady against the back of her neck and her head where he had likely pressed his face into her hair in sleep. It all seemed so...perfect. She knew it was a moment that could never last and would be an unattainable dream for the rest of her days.

            She was not meant for the life her parents had led. Her life would end in blood and death just as theirs had, but she would never know the things they had shared with one another. Perhaps such a dream was possible in Kormac's future, but never her own. And it might be that his future would include Eirena. Such knowledge would have crushed lesser people. It nearly crushed her. But that power within her, the will to survive, to never give up and never give in, prevented her from falling into such despair.

            No regret came to her. She already cherished everything he had given her. It was a great gift, even if she knew that she should not have indulged and selfishly accepted it. Releasing a sigh, she pulled herself away from such thoughts and turned her focus toward how to extract herself from the templar's hold so she could rise and clean up. Although there was still a pleasant sensation within, their union had become a sticky, itchy mess on her skin. And if she woke him up without knowing what his reaction to the sex would be, she would rather be ready to put distance between them.

            Her sigh triggered something even as she calculated. Unconsciously, Kormac shifted and his leg slid off hers. A sigh rose from his sleeping form as he also shifted and his arm drew away. Although it drew the blanket with it, the chill was no longer as biting-sharp to her as it had been. Moving slowly to give the covers plenty of time to gradually fall between them, she managed to slide away from the man without waking him further. It left him comfortably resting for a little longer.

            Moving quietly was as much a habit as a lifestyle for her. So by the time that Kormac had begun to stir toward waking, she had used some of the last water in her water skin to clean herself up and was mostly dressed before he finally opened his eyes. Seated near the nearly-dead fire, she was re-tying the laces on her boots after pulling her leggings back on. Turning her head to regard him as he sat up, she followed every sleep-heavy motion intently. The wolf nearby kept its head on its paws to watch as well.

            It took the templar a few moments to gather and orient himself. Finally, he turned his attention back to her as she finished with the last buckle on her boot. Sitting there, she hooked her elbow about the bent knee and grasped her wrist with the other hand to just...wait. In many ways she was hardly disappointed to see the struggle upon his face as he clearly remembered what had happened. She had not cleaned the evidence off him after all so he was likely just as sticky-itchy.

            The silence stretched for a time. Only when she finally looked away to reach for the first plates to re-attach to her boots did it break. He looked to the nearly depleted water skin then the cloth she had left lying atop it in reach. Quietly, he took both and in a sudden display of shyness, began to clean himself beneath the privacy of the covers. Granting him that, she focused on strapping the plates back into place. She had finished with her second boot before he finally cleared his throat.

            "Shandra...I..."

            Looking up, her eyes met his with a steady, pale golden glow about the stormy hazel. Despite his intention to speak, apparently making eye contact robbed him of what he was going to say. Given she had nothing to say to him either, the silence was a little heavy for a time. Finally, she looked back to her armor and started adjusting the knee-guards. It permitted her a moment to collect her thoughts.

            "You broke your vows, Kormac," she murmured. "Do you regret it?"

            He remained silent for a few moments. As she started to believe her thoughts to be true, he spoke in a tone that made her look back to him.

            "Do I regret it?"

            Kormac shifted, pushing the blanket away to reveal he had pulled his leggings back up so that he was again mostly dressed. His chest was still bared though where his leather tunic hung open. She had just glanced back toward him when he was suddenly right there and his arms went around her to pull her into a hug so fierce she found herself wondering about the strength.

            "How could I regret it, Shandra? There was nothing sinful about what we did or how it felt."

            "Pleasures of the flesh--"

            "Are something else."

            Tilting her head up, she fixed him with a wary regard. But there was no lie or deception in his face. It was not in his voice or his touch. And it did wind up throwing her for a loop. At a loss about how to respond let alone what to think, she relaxed and just enjoyed the embrace for several moments. Perhaps at the time with just the two of them, he meant it. But as more time passed he would have different thoughts, she was positive of it.

            "We need to get back..." she finally said.

            "Right...the witch. How long have we been here?"

            Frowning, she thought about it before looking at the fire then the wolf. It rose instantly and padded toward the cave entrance. Outside the wind was a little weaker but it was still bright. There was nothing the wolf saw that would help her mark any time and the creature itself was not one that grasped the concept beyond night, day, dawn, and dusk. It had fed the fire several times and gone to fetch more wood three more times as they slept--which meant to her that they had been in the cave for more than a few hours, possibly half a day or more.

            "I'm not sure. A few hours at least, you had quite a fever."

            He went still and almost tense. Withdrawing, he looked into her eyes even as she reached for another piece of her armor.

            "Why did you waste that time on me? I slowed you down...if you hadn't stopped--"

            "Then you'd have died or worse. Do not worry about it. Worry about getting your gear back on before I'm ready to go."

            There was a sense that something was hovering over them, waiting to be said or brought up. Neither reached for it. The weight remained as she finished getting her armor on and helped him get his on as well. Their patch-job had suffered but Kormac was still able to make use of the increasingly fragile armor for the time. It would keep him protected and warm on the trip to the keep's holdings.

            Leaving the fire to die out in the cave, they finished packing things up and began to make their way swiftly toward the keep's walls, visible in the distance. The wolf ranged ahead and around them, moving at an easy lope to keep an eye out for any straggling demons or beasts that might be of hindrance. Everything was still save for the still-present wind. In fact, it was almost too still, too quiet. But she focused her attention on their goal.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            "You were restless," Kormac said as they moved through the snow.

            "When?" she asked.

            "Last night--or, earlier, while we slept. I remember waking enough to feel you shifting then settling again."

            Killa remained quiet for several hard paces. The snow was getting a little easier to walk through before he spoke again. "Bad dreams?"

            "Somewhat. They always end the same regardless of how they begin."

            "How?" he asked.

            "The night the village was attacked by demons."

            It made the templar go quiet once more. She knew he was thinking about what little of her past she had shared with him. He would be pressing further once he realized she had not spoken of that much of what transpired before.

            "Do you have any family waiting for you back where you're from?"(1) he ventured.

            "My family was murdered by the beasts we have been killing,"(*) she answered. "I am all that is left of their line."(2)

            "They paid dearly for the pain they've caused."(*)

            "Not dearly enough," was her only reply.

            There was quiet for several more lengths before she spoke after realizing something else about the talk of their pasts.

            "Does your family still reside in Westmarch?"

            "I...am not sure. Some of the memories I have are still confusing. I saw my mother...light in her eyes...from a burning hut. But, I cannot remember if she lives or if..."

            "What of your father?"

            "Dead."

            She considered that and the memories of her time in Westmarch. There had been other boys with him when the guards came. And if he had spoken true, the one that helped her had been his father. It brought a pang of sorrow to her.

            "Did you have many friends at the order?"(3) she inquired.

            "We are brothers. It is a stronger bond than mere friendship."(4)

            At her look, he glanced aside. Once more it was such a boyish gesture it made her smile gently behind the cloth masking the lower half of her face.

            "Ah, so you didn't have any friends then."(5)

            "No...I had one," his voice became far more somber.

            "Were you very close?"

            "I had thought we were..."

            "What happened?"

            There was a hardness in his eyes that she had seen before. Only at that time, she had not understood. And the memory hit her the same time as his words confirmed it.

            "He betrayed the order to join a coven. I killed him."

            "Jondar."

            "Yes."

            Stopping, she waited for him to cross the last two strides. Reaching out, she gripped his shoulder and gave it a light shake. He looked to her and nodded once in thanks for the unspoken support. They moved onward.

            As the walls of the keep drew close enough they could make out the details of the gates, Kormac lifted his head to scan the battlements. Soldiers stood on attentive guard but they were few in number. The banners and flags to have survived the fight moved in the wind. It was an entirely lonely tableau--and she was not certain why it struck her as such. Perhaps it was because there were no soldiers in the field at the foot of the walls to greet them.

            "I hope Eirena is faring well through all of this. Bastion's Keep is full of death and despair."(6)

            "She's not some frail little flower, Kormac. She can handle herself."(7)

            "I still worry about her."

            "Don't. I did not leave her behind because I thought her incapable. There was simply too much at stake and I had no clue how well she and I would get along together without someone else around as well. I don't play well or easily with other...women."

            Kormac looked at her in the strangest of ways before a smile touched his lips which were visible just above his blue scarf. He said nothing. Her glare apparently worked to dissuade him from any comment. But by then they had topped the stairs leading to the  main gate. The guards outside it seemed utterly surprised to see them but quickly opened the doors to let them pass without a challenge. If she had not been in a hurry, she would have berated them about the negligence.

            Within the keep, there was no longer an air of despair but one of hope and celebration. Something about the way they were greeted and cheered was striking Killa as utterly odd. And Kormac had the same look about him when he pulled his helm off to look around. Wounded and healthy soldiers were cheering and making gestures of thanks or praise. Widows, refugees, villagers, merchants all applauded and cheered. It was wrong...somehow it was all wrong.

            Lyndon appeared, jogging up to them. And in his own enthusiasm, he caught the hunter in a hug only to spin her around. Kormac stood rooted and Killa herself was shocked.

            "Thank the gods you're safe. When they said you'd be along, I admit I was a bit worried the tin-can there had gotten you lost," the scoundrel said as he stepped back.

            "Why you--"

            Moving to stand between the two more automatically than from conscious thought, she frowned at the thief.

            "Tyrael, Leah, and Adria are back?"

            "Of course! They arrived just a few moments ago," Lyndon said as some of the enthusiasm left him. He was too good a scoundrel to miss the fact something was amiss.

            "Thank the Prophet for your safe return," Eirena said as she approached them with a smile. "I had started...to..."

            Her smile faded as she looked at the hunter and the templar. In a moment, her fair skin paled further before she brought one hand up to make some gestures. Killa felt the brush of magic and Kormac stiffened slightly. But the hunter was fixed on the enchantress.

            "Eirena, what's wrong?" she asked.

            "I...am not certain. You feel..." she trailed off. Another gesture and her frown grew. "When did you meet the Prophet? Did he come with you?"

            "Prophet?" Kormac asked, looking from Eirena to Killa.

            "We met no one, Eirena. Why? What do you see?"

            "It is not seeing, really. You have a presence about you. It feels familiar, the same as the magic the Prophet taught us. But it is fading even now."

            "What magic?"

            "I am not certain. I believe it is a spell for protection, and one to...turn away interest in you from those that intend harm. Any that would attack you should they see you would not see you. It is a powerful illusion spell that I know but cannot do myself. Only the Prophet had enough power and skill to work it. Are you certain you met no one?"

            The templar and hunter shared a quick look that said the same thing to each of them. "Only the demons we killed, and the three that just returned. About how long ago did they arrive?"

            "Perhaps half an hour ago, why?" Eirena asked.

            Kormac paled slightly and Killa's eyes narrowed.

            "We've been in a cave for nearly half a day since Adria's portal dropped us in the middle of the field outside," the hunter said in a flat tone.

            Lyndon was frowning at last. "That's impossible. It's only been a few minutes since they got back. How could you have spent hours in a cave?"

            "The Prophet's magic lingers around you. Whether you saw him or not, I think he might have done something to aid you. But...why? What has happened?"

            "We'll know shortly. Kormac, go see if Haedrig has my weapons ready and extra quivers. Eirena, Lyndon, go get your gear. There is something wrong about this entire thing. If I'm right, there's a trap here and we'll need all the help we can get."

            "I cannot sense any deception here, but I shall do as you say," the enchantress bobbed her head and hurried to their corner. Lyndon followed but a little more slowly and not without looking back over his shoulder several times. "I don't like where this is going," he muttered.

            While the templar went to the smith to see if any patch-work could be done on his armor and retrieve the hunter's requested items, Killa started to look for the three in question. Curiously, Tyrael was not at his usual spot where the troops within the keep could see him. But another man was. Although he wore the same armor as the other guards, there was an air about him that pegged him as the one left in charge.

            He turned as she approached and she could see his grin under his helm.

            "An incredible victory!" he said, and she recognized his voice as one of the men she had saved. Lieutenant Lavail continued, "I knew Azmodan could never stand up to the likes of you!"(8)

            "Where are Adria, Leah, and Tyrael?"(9) she asked.

            "They are all in the armory--no doubt celebrating! You should join them."(10)

            "I think I shall," she said as her eyes narrowed. "Thank you," she uttered as an afterthought as she turned to move past him toward the smithy.

            Haedrig was already chewing Kormac out from the look of it and the templar had been stripped to his leather lining once more. The smith was working on the severed straps of his shoulder armor as the templar got into the new hauberk.

            "I know tha work ya do is rough, but try ta take it a little easier on yer gear. It ain't as easy ta make you new plate as tis the hunter's armor," he was grousing.

            Despite her current mood, Killa again found herself smiling behind the mask. Reaching up, she tugged it down as she approached the two.

            "I'm sorry for the trouble, Haedrig. But you can work on full repairs later. We need to move now. Do you have my bow ready?"

            The smith finished attaching the new straps to the shoulder armor and shoved them into Kormac's hands. "Aye, it be done. Tricky thing that, but I needed the challenge. Around 'ere."

            He led her around to the open door of the wagon and hauled himself into it. A moment later he reappeared with a cloth-wrapped bundle and three quivers in hand. She reached out to take them so he could get down the small steps. Then he took them back to show as he spoke.

            "Made ya two of these for closer situations given the beatin' yer armor's takin' so far. They don't need no special belt for the quivers either."

            The smith held up a pair of two crossbows that would fit easily in either hand. Curiously, they shimmered with a bit of light like her current bow and its glowing red enchantment. They were sleeker than any other one-handed crossbows she had seen before. Even as she took one to test the weight and handling she could tell they were more lethal. The loading mechanism looked sharper and simpler as well.

            "Impressive."

            "I also borrowed an idea from that scoundrel that keeps hangin' around. Check the longbow quiver."

            She fastened the two quivers in place and found that there were places on the armor to support the crossbows themselves without much rearrangement needed. When her hands were free, she took the longbow quiver. Instantly she saw the fine cord coiled the length of the leather case. Looking more closely, she saw it was a finely woven rope of some sort barely an inch thick. Haegrid looked almost smug when she turned her focus to him.

            "That there's a safety line. Scoundrel's been tellin' tales about some bloke that used it to climb in and outta windows thievin'. Dunno why but seemed ya might have a use for that sometime. Now, warnin' ya right now, this longbow ya gave me text on's got a mind of it's own. And it's supposed ta if I made it right."

            He handed her the last piece as she slid the quiver into place. Although she wanted to look, enough time had been wasted. And if they had arrived soon after the witch, they had a small advantage that she did not want to completely waste.

            "I know your work's the best, Haedrig. I'll have to put this bow to the test later. We need to go, templar!"

            Kormac was still tugging his armor back into place but the replacement mail was already serving better than his broken hauberk. Armor in place, shield and sword ready, he followed her as she made her way toward the stairs leading down to the armory. Eirena and Lyndon were already waiting. The enchantress was frowning again as she stared towards the way down.

            "Something is amiss here, but it is powerful. I cannot...understand it or find the source of what darkness lies before us."

            Killa gave her one measuring look and broke into a run down the steps. Kormac was directly on her heels while the other two followed a moment later. The need to hurry was infectious but the hunter still had a firm grasp of caution--returned to her since their descent into the crater. And it proved that her suspicions were yet again true when they reached the armory. There was no sign of Tyrael, Leah or Adria.

            Blood covered the stone floors. Even as they emerged from the doorway on the last set of steps leading down, it trailed under their feet as if bodies had been dragged along the path they took. Killa immediately slid the still-wrapped bow into the leather catches on the quiver and drew the crossbows from their places. They snapped into place as she kept her eyes on the fresh blood, reading the trail every time it splashed or shifted.

            "By all that is holy..." Kormac breathed.

            "I don't see any signs of a fight," Lyndon muttered, his own bow drawn and arrow ready. "Look, the guards stacked their armor almost neatly..."

            Eirena was paler than ever as she followed them, staff glowing in her hands as she murmured spells to dispel any illusions. There were none save for a faint shimmering glow across the doorway that likely kept any sounds of what had happened from alerting the rest of the keep to trouble. Despite the neatness, there were bodies sprawled on the ground near corners but there was that strange lack of signs indicating violence.

            "This was no simple attack. And...not the work of a demon," Killa said as she followed the trails of blood around the corner toward the door leading to stairs heading up to the watchtower.

            She paused to nudge what appeared to be part of a torso with one arm attached. The legs--or what might have been the legs--were scattered. The blood was still warm when she brushed her gloved fingertips across the exposed entrails. It had not even begun to congeal on the body yet, even if it had on the cold stone floor.

            "They look like they were blown apart," Lyndon said as he approached, taking very exaggerated care to step over the trails of blood and bodily bits.

            Killa nodded. "I see no signs of fang or claw. And no cuts or mashed muscle to indicate a weapon."

            "But where did Leah, the seraph, and the witch go? There are no signs of them in Leah's room or this one," Eirena mentioned as she approached from the direction of the quarters the red-head had taken.

            A sound drew her attention to the corner near the stairway and she brought one crossbow up to aim toward it even as Kormac moved to shield her other side. Eirena was the one to move forward--and around the hunter's line of sight rather than into it--to kneel near the body of an armored soldier. He groaned when she touched him and shifted as if trying to drag himself away from the doorway.

            "Easy, do not try to move," the enchantress urged. "What happened here?"

            The soldier groaned, body jerking as a spasm of pain gripped him. Blood flowed from his unbroken armor to further stain the stone beneath him.

            "...witch..." he gasped, one arm moving to point toward the stairs they had been headed for. His arm fell to the stone with a sharp clatter as the last breath escaped him.

            "Quickly!" Killa hissed as she rose and rushed toward the stairs.


	37. Ascent

            The air in the stairwell was thick and Eirena began to murmur constantly as they climbed the steps of the tower. Every so often her magic would flare and a barrier that had been invisible would shimmer then vanish. With each barrier to fall, the scent of blood grew stronger. There was also a growing darkness and taint the higher they climbed that made Killashandra's guard rise in full as her eyes narrowed and muscles tensed with readiness for another fight.

            "We stand on the edge of a darkness beyond measure,"(1) the enchantress said from behind her.

            "How can you be certain?"(2) Kormac asked.

            "I witnessed the beginning. I saw some of the first daemons who were summoned into our world."(3)

            "Well, we shall see to it that these are the last!"(4) the templar said confidently.

            "I hope so,"(5) Eirena murmured.

            Lyndon remained quiet as he brought up the rear, bow still ready.

            She heard the voices before they reached the open doorway leading to the tower's top. Even hurrying, she knew they were too late as the howling wind carried the words down the stairway to them.

            "Adria, when did you decide to betray us?"(6) Tyrael asked.

            There was a surge of darkness and a different voice cried out in pain, silenced abruptly.

            "Twenty years ago a great and terrible power drew me to Tristram. But Aidan, Leoric's eldest son defeated that power and sought to contain it within his own flesh,"(7) Adria called over the wind.

            "The Dark Wanderer,"(8) Tyrael said, voice suddenly strained as if he were fighting against something.

            "It was Diablo I saw within him. And I pledged myself to his service. Now, at last, his grand design comes to fruition."(9)

            They were just two steps from the doorway when Tyrael cried out and the wind suddenly jolted as if a great explosion had shaken it. Magic flared in the open doorway, barring their exit. Killa threw herself backward to try and stop, crashing into the templar's chest. His shield arm went around her to stop her from falling as Eirena immediately brought her staff up to work a counter-spell. Lyndon crashed into Kormac's back trying to avoid interrupting the enchantress.

            "Dear Leah..." Adria said again and they were close enough to hear it clearly. "Deckard always suspected...your true father...was Diablo himself!"(10)

            Killa felt her heart skip a beat as things suddenly made sense. The sense of unease around Adria, Leah's power, the oddness of the girl, the way Cain had acted about his niece by constantly pushing her to believe the Horadric teachings and guide her path toward a specific goal. So many small signs that she should have picked up on, so many little warnings that she had overlooked.

            "And now, my daughter, you shall serve as his vessel!"(11) Adria cried.

            "Eirena!" Killa shouted as a foul power grew. She sensed its demonic taint and found her rage and hatred rising with it.

            "There!" the enchantress cried as magic flared and the fiery barrier vanished.

            "I LIVE!"(12) came a powerful voice both masculine and feminine. It was Leah's voice, but it was not. It burned and crackled with unimaginable evil. And Killa felt her heart sink even as she raced through the doorway into the icy blast of the winds whipping around the tower.

            "But I am more than I once was. The seven Evils are now one within me. I am...the Prime Evil!"(13)

            Ice made the last two sets of stairs treacherous. The hunter's boots helped her maintain her footing but the wind still tore at her and slowed her progress as the three behind used the wall to try and keep up with her without being snatched away by the weather itself.

            "Well done, faithful Adria. Go now, until I call upon you again."(14)

            The corpses of soldiers barred their way, strewn across the steps and providing further obstacle to the climb. Regardless, the hunter stepped on the pliable corpses and continued to climb without hesitation. The dead would feel nothing. And she had no time to consider softer sentiments about them with the newly-spawned demon lord ahead of her.

            "Now, at last, to my true goal, the one that has always eluded me: the utter destruction of the High Heavens!"(15)

            Heat suddenly exploded from the tower's top just as the hunter gained the last step. The carnage of numerous guards surrounded a demonic circle drawn with their blood and the severed limbs of other soldiers. There was no sign of Adria but Killa did see Leah--or what had taken her body. It stood before a fiery portal with a seething black heart. Even as she brought her crossbow up to aim, it stepped through. Her bolt followed it through the portal but gave her no indication whether it struck or not.

            Tyrael was struggling to rise from where he had been thrown hard against the stone guard-rail. Several cuts marked his face and blood had trickled from his lips but he seemed to be able to move. Just as she started to turn toward him, the mortal angel's eyes hardened and he raced for the burning portal left by Leah.

            "Tyrael!" she shouted.

            Not even giving her a glance, the ex-angel leapt through the fiery ring into the darkness. And just as she had done once before with the portal the witch had made, the hunter raced forward to follow him. She sensed rather than saw the other three following her before searing heat consumed her, enveloping her in pure darkness--and she felt something yank her upward so suddenly it left her winded.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Killashandra slammed into something solid so hard it jolted every bone in her body. Had she not already been winded, it would have done so again. Instead, it shocked her lungs into expanding. Coughing as she choked on the sudden breath of air, she pushed herself upward onto her hands and knees. Staggering forward, she found that although her entire body rang with the force of her impact, she was unharmed.

            The sounds of other bodies striking the ground made her turn as her vision cleared. Sure enough, Kormac had landed a moment after she had moved. The force of his impact sent him rolling out of the way for Eirena--and Lyndon. The two fell in a tangled heap with sharp cries of surprise. Absently, the hunter found herself wondering if the fall was typical of portals taken by those uninvited or if it was just their luck.

            Groaning, the templar managed to rise after several false starts. Lyndon and Eirena faired a little better since they had far lighter armor to contend with. As the others collected themselves, Killa found her attention drawn to the foul taint marring what should have been sparkling white marble edged in gold. The architecture had been lovely once, but was desecrated by demonic stains. And it was the spoor of more than just one demon.

            Already a vicious wound had been delivered in the ruins made of a beautiful place. And while she felt a natural pain at the view, she only used it to focus her hatred for the demon they now pursued.

            "This devastation defies all reason!"(16) Kormac said as he caught up to her.

            "This can't be the end... Can it?"(17) Lyndon asked as he drew near the two, eyes wide as he surveyed the damage. "I don't know if I've ever felt this awful before. It's like losing her all over again." (18)

            "Losing who?"(*) Kormac asked.

            "Damn, did I say that out loud?"(19) the scoundrel muttered.

            "The Heavens... What have we done?"(20) Eirena gasped, tears falling down her cheeks. Lyndon turned to catch her as she stumbled over the uneven ground.

            Killa was the only one of the party that did not comment about the state of the heavens. She kept her focus on her hatred and the goal ahead. Turning to move down the once-beautiful steps, she hastened to where two figures stood. It was easy to recognize Tyrael. But he stood facing another being clad in armor of gold against shadowy black. It burned like a sun and the great ethereal wings rising from the back to surround it in a corona of glorious holy flame.

            "Imperius, you cannot mean to face Diablo again! Your wounds are barely healed!"(21) Tyrael was saying.

            "The Heavens burn," the angel--Imperius--said. His voice nearly shook the ground with its power and majesty. "This is your fault, Tyrael!"(22)

            Just as she drew up beside the mortal angel, Imperius took notice. A golden polearm bleeding lethal power rose to jab toward her chest. Kormac was suddenly there, placing himself and his shield between the archangel and the hunter. It did not come to blows, but it did give her a moment of alarm and worry at the templar's foolishness.

            "And you, nephalem! Look below and see what your kind has wrought!"(23) Imperius growled before flaring with light and becoming a beam of golden flame rising upward to arc and head somewhere else within the heavens.

            "Well, someone's not happy to see us..."(24) Lyndon murmured where he was trying to appear like he was not cowering behind Tyrael.

            "The Aspect of Valor condemns us... This will be difficult,"(25) Eirena said as she regained her composure despite the sheet-white of her skin.

            Kormac only sighed, "I know how he feels, but we have to keep going!"(26)

            Tyrael had bowed his head. All of them went silent when his tormented voice emerged. "The Diamond Gates have stood since the light first broke over the High Heavens. Now they lie in ruins." He paused to take a deep, trembling breath. "Imperius is right. I am the cause of this."(27)

            "Don't let his words deceive you. Diablo planned it all from the very beginning. You are not at fault,"(28) the hunter said.

            "Long ago, my brethren and I voted to decide the fate of man. I cast the final vote that spared you from extinction. Now...humanity has birthed the Prime Evil."(29)

            It stung like another betrayal to hear Tyrael speak in such a manner. And Killa immediately reacted to the barb. "No--we were betrayed. And now we must make amends... We must stand and fight. Isn't that why you became mortal? If you will not join me, I shall go on alone."(30)

            Eirena swiftly caught Killa's shoulder and leaned in to whisper near her ear, "Be gentle with Tyrael... He will not understand at first. He needs time."(31)

            The mortal angel did not hear the enchantress's words. He did lift his head finally to look at the hunter's glowing eyes. "But you don't understand. Hope has been silenced."(32)

            "What does that mean?"(33) Lyndon asked no one in particular.

            Tyrael's last comment only made her eyes narrow as she turned away from the sight before her. Rage burned bright within her as she turned her attention away from the figure that had often reassured her. She knew nothing of how to return the favor. All she knew was how to act to correct the problem. It was the only thing she knew, and it was all that she could do. She could and would bring death to Diablo and his minions for this.

            Screams, roars, and the sounds of battle were filling the air along with the scent of smoke and demonic magic. Nowhere could she see a hint of sunlight save in flashes where angels battled the dark host. It made her choice easier.

            "Eirena, Lyndon, stay with Tyrael. He will be of no use to us like this. Help any angels that require it but be careful."

            Her gaze went toward Kormac, inquiring silently. He merely nodded once and stepped toward her. Turning, the two moved to enter the High Heavens and follow Diablo's unmistakable trail of devastation.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Diablo's voice thundered through the air, searing their ears and making both hunter and templar pause as they set foot on another tainted patch of ground. Before them were multiple holes in the platform as if they were passages for creatures unbound by the ground to transverse from one area to another.

            "Gaze upon the destruction I have wrought. It will be the last thing you see. Iskatu, destroy the nephalem!"(34)

            Suddenly, a strange yellowish green demon leapt from one of the gold-ringed holes to land in their path. It was a strange mix of insect and demon with great horns upon its head and a bony, vaguely humanoid face. Kormac raised his shield, sword at the ready at his side. Killa simply stood beside him, crossbows resting at her sides, aimed for the floor as if utterly unconcerned by the new obstacle.

            "I do not fear you, nephalem. You'll find only death in this eternal realm."(35)

            "Those are your first and last mistakes, demon," she answered calmly with shadow lacing her words.

            Roaring, the demon attacked them. It was extremely fast and agile. The powerful blows drove Kormac back and around as the hunter moved to circle for a clearer line of fire. The bat she had conjured screeched warning as shadows boiled in the holes that had filled with darkness like pools.

            "The armies of Hell will trample your corpses! The shades will devour your soul!"(36) Iskatu roared as he tried to get past the templar to strike at the hunter.

            "Shades, hm?" Killa mused as she turned her attention to the mass of black things crawling across the floor toward her like some twisted swarm of insects. Not even pausing, she flipped a small switch on the crossbows that loaded multiple bolts at once and began to fire. The wide spread struck the semi-substantial creatures. Even as they screamed, light flared as flame spread in arcs where the bolts struck, annihilating the shadows and dissolving their bodies.

            Turning back to their main foe, she dropped one of the crossbows against the quiver, reloading from the pre-set bunches of bolts there. She reloaded the second while firing with the first. Iskatu was fast but not fast enough to evade all of her shots. Roaring and screeching in pain as several bolts drove through his exoskeleton, the demon slammed into the templar, sending him backward. But Kormac was swift to recover his footing and charge back, slamming into the demon again and knocking him off his path to the hunter.

            "You believe you can defeat me, mortal? Our armies are endless!"(37)

            Killa was smiling as she lowered her head and sighted along one of the crossbows. "Good. I'd hate to get bored waiting for more of you to pop up."

            Iskatu roared again as more shades surged over the floor from the black pools. Bringing her other crossbow up, she simply moved her arm in a sweeping arc, releasing another wide sweep of shots at the approaching shades. Kormac released a battle cry as light spread over the ground beneath him and seared the skin of the demon he was blocking. One more bolt was loosed. Its fiery red shaft struck the open mouth, slamming through the back of Iskatu's skull only to arc in the air and drive through his back into his chest.

            Thrashing as it screamed, the demon staggered backward as its body broke apart, burning away as the magic that had coated the arrow devoured it from the inside out. Paying no mind to the kill, Killa turned her focus to the shades still swarming toward them as Kormac began to strike at them with blow after powerful blow.

            "Is there no end to this vile horde?"(38) he spat.

            "Everything ends. Have a little patience, or is your arm tired already?" she teased with dark humor.

            Kormac snorted at that and drove his blade through another shadowy body. It dissolved with a screech as another took its place. The hunter was correct though. Every shade that pulled itself from the pools diminished them until finally, there was no more boiling blackness and no more shades swarming toward them. Panting, the templar straightened and caught his breath. Killa was hardly winded and took a moment to reset the switches on the crossbows and reload them properly.

            As one, they moved forward again. Both kept an eye on the openings in the floor but nothing more came from them. Climbing the stairs, they continued forward--only to halt as a shining figure descended from above to hover over the ground atop the dais leading even deeper into the heavens. The angel looked different, the wings shaped and colored quite uniquely as was the armor. It was not Imperius and in place of a weapon, it held a scroll in one hand like a shield.

            "I am Itherael, archangel of Fate," the angel said in a voice that was somehow soothing. "It is my duty to record what is and what will be within the Scroll of Fate. But you, nephalem--you are not in the scroll. Your fate is unwritten."(39)

            "Then I shall try to make the best of it. Will you help me? Or stand and watch while the Heavens fall to darkness?"(40) she asked, tired of challenges by those who did nothing.

            The white and gold hood tilted to one side as the black maw taking the place of a face regarded her. "Perhaps...fate can be changed," he mused. "Quickly, then! Auriel, archangel of Hope, has been captured by Rakanoth, the Lord of Despair."(41)

            Suddenly, Tyrael's words made sense. If the archangel of Hope had been captured, it meant the embodiment of hope had been silenced. And by Despair itself? Killa's eyes narrowed as she regarded Itherael. He was turning to unlock the doors barring their way.

            "I will free her. That should restore the faith of your brethren."(42)

            As the doors opened, Itherael rose and flew forward as his wings pulsed with light. Following, the two companions broke into a jog to keep up with him. But they could not fly as the archangel could. He rose and the scroll he held suddenly unfurled into something of a weapon as several airborne demons attacked him. Leaving him to his fight, the two ran on.

            Kormac did not hesitate to charge into the fray when they came upon a small group of angels falling back before giant brutes of demons with great wings. Once she had a clear shot, Killa unleashed another rapid volley of bolts into the heads and chests of the towering demons as the angels spread out to flank the beasts. It took a handful of seconds before the demons fell, crumbling to putrid ash and chaff on the wind of the angel wings.

            Several of the angel warriors turned to regard them. None attempted to impede their path as they spread their wings to take to the sky again. One, however, nodded to the hunter and templar before following his kin. Killa merely moved onward. As more of the strange demon oppressors landed to attack them, she saw a sight that drove a sudden lance of pain through her heart. It was a good thing they were able to finish off the last attacker swiftly because neither could move for several moments given what they saw.

            Before them, were the bodies of angels. Each body was sprawled like some depraved sacrificial offering atop a festering altar formed by blackened disease and smoldering corruption from the Hells themselves. Wickedly barbed spikes rose from these altars to impale the shining armor and trap the fallen beings to the cursed things. But what struck both hunter and templar was that the glowing wings of the angels...were still moving and darkening.

            "The souls of these angels are trapped here. Such a horrid fate,"(43) Kormac finally choked out.

             It snapped Killa from her shock and caused her eyes to narrow. Turning, she fixed her glare on the templar and brought both crossbows up toward him. He stepped back in surprise but then relaxed when he saw her fingers were not on the triggers.

            "Bless the bolts," she commanded in a tone he had not heard before.

            Surprised, he shifted his sword to the hand of his shield arm and reached out. His gauntlet came to rest lightly across both weapons as he bowed his head and began to murmur a prayer. Light rose from his hand, flashing and pulsing as it wound around the weapons and shimmered along the bolts. She felt the warm caress of sunlight and let it push away the lingering chill the vision of the tormented angels had given her.

            When he withdrew his hand, she turned and brought both weapons up. As the holy light danced along the bolts, she took aim and fired. The shafts became pure white as they flew, striking the festering nodes and exploding into golden white showers. The demonic taint was burned away, crumbling upon itself as the angelic bodies sagged then rose slightly into the air. Gaping holes were left through their torsos as their bodies began to crumble into shards of light rising into the air until nothing was left.

            "The angels' spirits are free now. May they be at peace,"(44) she said as she moved forward, reloading.

            Kormac was silent as he followed her, treading around the spots where the gristly things had been. Under his breath, he prayed for exactly what the hunter had said, that the angels might find peace. Ahead of him, Killa was steeling herself and letting more of her hatred bleed through her rage at what she had just seen. Diablo would pay for this utterly senseless act. She would make sure of it. But first, Hope had to be restored.

            "The High Heavens really are lost without Hope. How can one being hold such influence over so many?"(45) he asked.

            "My feelings are my own; I need no being to keep me stable,"(46) she snapped.

            Even Kormac could tell the lie in her words. For his part, he chose to say nothing, turning her words over in his mind as they continued. There was that sudden weight present once more, lingering over both of them like something they refused to acknowledge. Soon, she knew, he would want to talk again. She was not yet ready for it. And there was a fight to focus on here and now.


	38. Hope and Fate

            Parts of the paths leading through the great city were blocked by festering barriers of corruption so foul neither Killashandra nor Kormac could get near. Even when he again blessed her crossbow bolts, they merely struck the barriers and did nothing but cause a tiny hole that did not weaken the blockades one bit. Seeking a way around to follow the airborne form of Itherael as he fought his way toward a set destination.

            Soon, he dropped to rejoin them as they approached a magnificent doorway with amazing blue light emanating from beyond. Although neither of the two below him saw anything, he paused to bring his wings forward. They flashed, illuminating a barrier that had been present. It fell like a curtain of water to leave the way open for them to proceed.

            "This is the Library of Fate. Auriel and Rakanoth are within," the archangel said before he turned to meet another attack from the air and protect their backs.

            The sounds of battle faded into distance behind them after only a few steps. The deeper they moved, the more it was clear the library was something vastly different than anything they had yet seen. It was almost pure blue light. Great columns rose from a point somewhere below the glow of blue. Water poured from the figures of angelic wings but broke apart to sparkle and dissipate into the air more as light would. The mist was not wet, nor were there any signs of any true water anywhere.

            And curiously, there were no books immediately visible. Great tendrils of white edged in blue were constantly rising from the floor to either side of the walkway, swaying and twisting as they rose. Once in a while a tendril would pull away from the rest to caress what appeared to be some manner of jar lining shelves that shimmered behind a thin wall of that water-like light. Only when they were nearly to the heart of the library did either of them see hints of something that looked like books and scrolls upon the shelves.

            "This is unlike any library I've ever seen..."(1) Kormac uttered. "I wonder what sorts of secrets are kept in here. An extraordinary place."(2)

            Suddenly, there was a hissing, bubbling growl from ahead and the hunter broke into a jog. The walkway opened up into a large central platform. What greeted them was a demon unlike anything they had yet seen. Its great arms were longer than its body and they were blades without any visible hands or fingers to be seen. Its head was flattened like an arrowhead without sign of eyes or mouth, only strange wires trailing like a braid down its back to curl and tangle into its body. The ribs were exposed and moved like lungs around a pulsing blue sphere like a heart.

            "You think yourself free from the chains of fate, nephalem, but all will kneel before Lord Diablo!"(3) Rakanoth spat.

            "A challenge?"(4) she asked as another grin spread across her lips.

            Rakanoth rose up with a roar. Kormac charged in instantly to slam into the demon's body. Killa sent the bat forward to attack the demon's head as she opened fire on the giant blades of its arms. Strafing to the side, she looked for a better line of sight to hit the pulsing heart. The templar's shield rang every time the great arms struck it, sending sparks flying. Killa's shots ricocheted off the arms but the force behind each shot prevented some of the blows from hitting their target.

            As she circled, she saw a sight that was only slightly less horrific than the impaled angels from moments before. White shown against black where a female angel was bound to a twisted column of hard black tentacles. It made her look like some strange witch bound at a stake ready to be burned. In fact, that black thing was emitting corrupted magic that had already begun to claw its way up her legs and taint her celestial garments.

            It was too close to what she had seen when she first encountered Kormac, too much like the vision of the tormented angels outside. Rage made the hunter's eyes flash red as she turned her full attention back to Rakanoth and vaulted into the air. Tucking her body to somersault over the demon, she uncurled at the peak of her leap to bring both crossbows in and unleash a hail of bolts straight downward. The templar threw himself backward the moment the first bolts struck the skeletal body and began to eat it away.

            Roaring, the demon twisted away from its current target to swipe one deadly arm toward the hunter. Even if it seemed she was an easy target, Killa was still moving as she twisted her body mid-air. Her boots struck the flat of the blade and she kicked off to alter her direction, letting her momentum carry her over Rakanoth's shoulder to strike his flat head. One of her own arms dropped to fire point-blank down his throat into his chest. Fire exploded from the blue heart as the demon lurched, throwing her away.

            Landing in a crouch on the ground, she snapped her head to her left to watch as Rakanoth's body thrashed and crumbled in death. The light of what had apparently been his heart went dark as he collapsed in on himself and became so much charred ash tumbling over the floor. The currents of whatever strange light or power filling the library moved the air enough that the remains were swept away into nothing.

            "My armies flow through the Hell rifts. Heaven will be destroyed long before you set one foot into the Silver Spire!"(5) Diablo's voice roared in their ears.

            Standing once more, Killa snorted before slowly twisting at the waist. Although she had not immediately noticed, a blow or two had gotten through her guard. Her scarred side felt a little sore as if the skin had pulled too much. But no blood was felt so she chose to ignore it as she crossed to where the angel was trapped.

            Kormac was already there, having taken the hint from before. He was murmuring a prayer as he struck at the black column with his blade. Each strike carved a large chunk away to send it collapsing in a shower like black glass. Moving around, Killa watched before sliding a dagger from her boot to start working higher up on the tendrils that bound the angel's arms behind her back. It was cautious work since some of the wings were snared as well and she did not wish to strike those.

            Then, Itherael swooped down from above, finally finished with the demons outside. His wings flared with light as he brought the scroll up. Light flared as it glowed and took on new form as a great sword. Etchings rested along both sides of the blade like elegant script. The runes were almost familiar when Killa looked up to see them. He phased from one spot to the next, appearing right above the three and simply sliced downward through the pillar Auriel was bound to. It shattered.

            Auriel fell to the floor on her hands and knees. Shuddering, she cast off the corruption that had been working its way over her body in attempt to claim her. Her wings rose, flaring with intense violet light as they reformed full and strong. Rising upward, she righted herself to hover in the air beside Itherael and face both hunter and templar. Already there was a change in the air around them that Kormac felt more than Killa did.

            "Thank you, nephalem. I hoped the Scroll of Fate was wrong, that harmony would once again fill this troubled realm. I see now that all hope lies in you,"(6) came her rich, soothing voice.

            "We must make our own destiny from this day forward,"(7) the hunter said, eyes turning toward the silent Itherael.

            "With my blessing you can now dispel Diablo's corruption. It hides the rifts which bring his cursed servants to this hallowed place. The rifts must be closed."(8)

            "It would be an honor, my lady,"(9) Kormac said with a deep bow.

            Auriel's hands rose as she made a sweeping gesture. Before them formed a pale blue portal shimmering the same way the lights of the library shimmered. Killa sighed and fought back the urge to growl. She was really getting sick of portals and everything about them. Kormac went through before her this time. Just as he vanished, she stepped forward and was halted by Itherael's scroll-blade.

            He said nothing but offered her something with his free hand. Auriel made a sound but did not interfere. Sensing a tension however, the hunter was swift to accept the item and tuck it against her back beneath her belt and the longbow quiver. Then both archangels withdrew and soared toward the ceiling of the library, vanishing into the light as she passed through the portal...

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            "That corruption was strongest to the northeast, as I remember," (10) Kormac said as they emerged onto the first tier of the Gardens of Hope.

            "Then that is the way we shall go," Killa replied and turned that direction.

            Sure enough, when they attacked the barricades, they at last fell as a soft sound filled the air. It was too soft to really be called music but it was present. And it was strong when they attacked the corruption barring their way. Auriel's blessing was strong indeed. And clearly it extended to the demons that attacked them every time one of the corruption barriers fell. For every one they destroyed, the area beyond it was more foul than ever.

            "What is this disgusting bile that covers the floor?"(11) the templar growled as another bit of it stuck to his boot, hindering his progress.

            "It is corruption left by hellspawn. I have sometimes seen its like in other infested places,"(12) she answered.

            "Ugh!" was all Kormac said.

            The next barrier they destroyed revealed that it was no barrier as the path led nowhere. It was a dead end--and the location of a hell rift. The black pit in the floor was edged by a writhing mass of red light and fire spreading corruption away from it like pulsing veins. Nose wrinkling, the hunter moved to jump into the pit as the templar followed. They landed in an all-too-familiar place. The heat was stronger although it was more darkness than light as it had been in the crater. But the ground was once again that leathery, skeletal blend that gave slightly beneath every step.

            "By the Light, I never wanted to see this demon squalor again!"(13)

            "Then let's make sure this is the last time anyone will have to see it!" she said with a grin that made the templar start in surprise.

            A moment later he saw why. Swarms of demons were charging straight for them. He took a breath and moved forward to meet them as the hunter raised her bows and fired a stream of arrows into the air. The bolts split apart to shower fire and hate over the approaching masses. Screams rose and demons fell, impeding their kin's advance enough for the templar to slow them. It was a fight that was somehow different than the ones before. Killa felt exhilarated rather than consumed.

            They pressed on as more and more demons charged. But eventually the numbers thinned and then were gone all together. Only one demon stood between them and a source of burning power. As they neared, Diablo's voice suddenly roared in their ears.

            "If you destroy the oculus, my Hell rift will consume you!"(14)

            Killa laughed and darted forward to attack. Even Kormac felt some of her excitement rubbing off on him as his charge showed renewed strength. He slammed into the great arms of the hammersmith, unbalancing the creature and hacking its nearest leg apart as the hunter dove beneath it, tumbling easily between the legs to fire straight up into its body. Even before it had gotten two blows on the templar, the demon was falling apart, crashing like a discarded toy around them.

            Turning her attention to the oculus, she let one hand fall to her belt. Tugging free one of the devices she rarely used, she pulled the safety pin out and tossed the grenade into the heart of the thing. Aware that Diablo might have been telling the truth, she drew close to Kormac as he brought his shield up to protect them from the blast. The explosion rocked the entire chamber, bringing stone and rubble down toward them. Just as it came close, there was a flash of blue and Auriel appeared.

            Glowing whips rose from her body to strike the falling debris aside and away from them as she spun in a graceful arc to hover near them. Kormac lowered his shield and Killa stepped around it as the archangel of Hope brought her hands up to form another portal before them.

            "Well done, nephalem. Diablo's vile minions can no longer use this rift to find their way into the Silver City. Now, only one rift remains.(15) Allow me to grant you passage back to the Heavens. I must return to my brethren's side to fight!"

            Rather than waste time delaying, both hunter and templar hurried through the portal. They emerged where they had entered the rift. Auriel rose into the air, soaring away from them and using the twin lashes to knock another demon out of the air. Focusing on their own battle, the two pressed onward, destroying any corruption that blocked their way as they looked for the next rift.

            Ahead of them, as they crossed a bridge of that strange water-light, they saw several more angelic warriors battling a horde of demons that easily outnumbered them. With a cry of "Fear me!"(16) the templar charged into the midst of the battle. Coming to an abrupt stop on the bridge, Killa began taking aim and firing, picking off her targets one by one as the surprised angels adapted to the new reinforcements to renew their attacks.

            Demons fell beneath the combined attacks as if they were but insects. Oppressors, subjugators, great beasts bearing riders on their backs, and a new demon that arrived like crashing meteors swarmed them with sudden ferocity. With the holy might of the angels and their own battle-honed skills, it was an extremely short fight. Shorter than any others up to that moment. But it was still violent enough to bring the templar's already-damaged armor into light again as a fearsome blow shattered his shield and struck his chest.

            One of the angels threw themselves between the templar and a fall from the walkway, shoving him away from the edge and using their wings to right themselves. Killa and the other two brought the last demons down and the group had a moment to collect themselves as Kormac sprawled on the ground. Moving over to him, the hunter sank to one knee to reach out and run her hand over the great break in his armor. It exposed the mail beneath and left a point where his heart was unguarded.

            "Kormac, are you all right?" she asked.

            "Just winded," he replied before pushing himself up to look at his armor. "A little more than a scratch, but the armor proved its worth."

            The angelic warriors regrouped and circled them, alert for further attacks. One stepped forward and offered the templar a hand up. After a moment of hesitation, he took it and found himself pulled to his feet so swiftly there could be no mistaking the angel's strength greatly trumped that of the templar. But the angel did not turn away immediately as the other two did. He leaned in closer to examine the broken armor.

            "This won't do," came the angel's voice at last. "Come, let's get that armor replaced."

            It immediately caught the attention of the other warriors and one grabbed the first's shoulder. "No! Leave them. They must make their own way. The law forbids us to help."

            The first turned, knocking his companion's arm away and pointing toward Kormac. "They aided us. It is only right that we return their aid."

            "Imperius and the council will have your wings for this," warned the third.

            "Let them. We've bigger problems right now," the first said and turned back to a very puzzled Kormac and wary Killa.

            "If you're going to fight with us, you'll need better armor. We're near a place that holds some spares. Hurry, we cannot afford to waste much time!"

            The angel did not take to the air but ran along the walkway as his wings flared. After a moment, the two followed. Behind them, a grumble came and suddenly two shadows fell over them as the other two angels flew over them, guarding them from the air. Sure enough, not far from the bridge was a doorway that was cracked open. The first angel pushed the doors open and preceded them into the place.

            It was strangely dark inside but hardly foreboding. In fact, despite the darkness it was calm and peaceful with a definite strength to it. Privacy and peace were prevalent as well as a stronger sense of sanctity.

            "This is one of our chapels. But it also serves as a reserve armory for weapons and armor we are not using," the first angel was saying as he led them through the place and along a narrower walkway down a set of stairs. As the room opened up, various stands and graceful displays were seen lining the rails. Armor and weapons waited, glowing softly in their storage areas. "Here, get that armor off. It will go faster with help."

            Kormac was actually starting to stutter protests. Even Killa could tell the armor and weapons were blessed and holy. But she saw the angel's reasoning. Not letting the templar protest, she holstered her weapons and set to getting the man's armor off. The angel selected several pieces and began re-armoring the still-stunned figure. It took them both a few minutes to finish. By then, Kormac had managed to shake his shock off as he stared down at himself.

            The armor gleamed silver-white edged in magnificent gold. While simple and primarily unadorned, it was lighter than anything he had worn before. Yet every single plate was thick and strong to the eye and to the touch. The angel regarded the awed man before nodding once and turning to head for the weapons on the opposite side. It gave the hunter a chance to give the templar a shove in the same direction.

            "Snap out of it! The faster you thank them for this, the sooner we can catch Diablo," she teased with a touch of seriousness.

            The angel turned back to them, offering Kormac a new shield that was absolutely beautiful in design. It curved gracefully and was reinforced by golden metal sporting multiple sockets for gems--although only one deep turquoise gem was present in the middle. Kormac slowly settled it onto his arm and tested the way it moved, again awed by the lack of clumsy weight and the design.

            "That is a Hallowed Barricade, templar. When you seek to protect that which you hold most dear, you will see it come alive," the angel was saying. He held out a curiously shaped weapon that looked like an axe. "This is a Hallowed Breach. With it comes the blessings of every angel to have wielded it before. Mind you treat it well and it will never fail you or leave your hand in battle."

            Completely awestruck by the armor and armaments he in no way felt remotely entitled to, Kormac could only stare and gape at the warrior before him. The angel shook his head and looked to where the hunter stood near them. She just shrugged and turned to head for the doors.

            "Men," she said over one shoulder.

            "Indeed," the warrior replied before taking his own weapon back in hand to follow. "Take care of those things, templar. If you survive this battle, you will have to return them!"

            That helped to snap Kormac out of his brain-shocked state. Remembering that these were mere loans and there was a war to fight immediately, he hurried after the others. The angel had rejoined his comrades and the three took to the sky to rejoin the fighting. Looking after them, Killa was ready to rejoin the fight herself. The templar followed automatically although he was still following the angels with his eyes.

            "These angels fight for survival as vigorously as the men did at Bastion's Keep. Perhaps we aren't so different after all."(17)

            "What other option do they have? I pity no creature that surrenders to destruction,"(18) she replied as they moved back along the bridge they had encountered the angels on.

            They encountered several more groups of angels on their way. Although they saw the armor the templar wore, not a one made any comment on it. In fact, as with each group before, at least one gave a nod of recognition or thanks for the aid. Especially warriors that were in pairs or alone as there was almost always one angel impaled near them, attesting to the way the battle was currently going. It did not look favorable.

            At last, they found the second hell rift. Killa paused to look up, searching for any signs of Auriel. Nothing but more squads of angelic warriors and swarms of demons battling in the skies. Hoping that the archangel of that very power would be able to find the rift in time to pull them out again, the hunter leapt through the pit. Loyal to the last, Kormac followed with a muttered prayer.


	39. Return of Justice

            Again they entered the shadowy hell, again they were besieged by waves of demons. Once again they cut through the cursed throng. Killashandra even missed when the oculus guardian fell since it was no more challenge than the rest of the demons. Her only clue was when they found the oculus unprotected. It was almost too easy. And hope was answered when Auriel came to them the split instant before the rift closed to provide them an exit.

            When they emerged back onto the second tier of the Gardens of Hope, again Diablo's voice burned their ears. Neither of them paid much attention to his threats and boasting. The hunter had already seen the words as empty and Kormac could now see the same. His faith was stronger than ever and bolstered by the holy armaments he had been loaned. And with Auriel so close, they were directly within the grip of Hope itself.

            It came as a surprise however as they followed the swooping archangel up a set of stairs to another dais--and saw Tyrael standing before them along with a slightly battered-looking Lyndon and a very worried Eirena.

            "Tyrael!"(1) Killa called as he turned.

            "Yes, my friend. I am ready to again fight by your side," he said. "I was wrong to give in to despair. You have shown me there is still a chance for victory."(2)

            He reached out to grip the hunter's shoulder when she drew near. A relieved smile came to Killa's lips as she rested one hand on his wrist, giving a squeeze just as she had that moment in the deserts outside of Caldeum. She did not notice the way Kormac was watching them.

            "But we must hurry. Even now Diablo makes his way to the Silver Spire!"(3) he said as he turned. Auriel dropped down and activated the portal that Tyrael faced before she soared up to rejoin the fighting elsewhere.

            "I finally understand," the mortal angel said as he motioned for the rest of them to use the portal. "Your kind faces death and darkness every day, yet still you find the courage to move forward. It is an honor to be one of you."(4)

            "I knew you would understand with time,"(5) the enchantress said.

            "Oh, you still have much to discover, my friend!"(6) Lyndon said with a grin--which earned him an elbow in the ribs from Killa, and another from Eirena. Between the attacks from both sides, he could only give a strangled "oof!"

            Unaware of the interaction, Tyrael stepped through the glowing ring. Killa followed along with Eirena. Lyndon and Kormac were the last, for different reasons. The templar was thinking about Tyrael's words. The scoundrel was contemplating the templar's new armor and strange new attention towards the hunter. He hoped the nudges had been enough and they had completely settled their differences.

            As they emerged on the Crystal Colonnade, the others were collecting themselves once more. Kormac moved beside Killa as Tyrael followed close on her other side. Lyndon and Eirena trailed and kept an eye on the skies and sides of the walkway.

            "We're near the spire now," the templar said as he looked at the architecture before them. "Wait, who's that ahead?"(7)

            "Oh, dear. He has returned,"(8) Eirena uttered in a worried tone.

            They topped the stairs to see three angelic warriors fighting oppressors. Just as they arrived, the demons received reinforcements, surrounding the warriors and turning toward the group. Suddenly, a gold pillar struck the ground and exploded outward. The demons were annihilated as Imperius took form in the midst of the angels he had just rescued. They snapped to attention as any experienced soldiers would before their commander.

            "You!" the archangel bellowed, jabbing his polearm toward Killa. "Your kind does not belong here!"(9)

            Kormac immediately moved forward but was halted by Tyrael's hand on his shoulder, keeping him partially hidden by the mortal angel. He need not have worried. Auriel and Itherael dropped from above, flanking Killa. Their presence in clear support and defense of the hunter seemed to affect Imperius as some of the light faded from his weapon. "If I see you again, you will die!"(10)

            He vanished in another column of light, joined by the three warriors he had saved. Killa only then realized she had growled at the archangel. Pulling her emotions under control again, she was mildly surprised to hear Auriel speak.

            "Pay him no mind; this is your fight, nephalem. Your power is even greater than Tyrael foresaw."(11)

            Tyrael nodded, "One can only hope. But now we must stop Diablo before he reaches the Crystal Arch above us!"(12)

            Both archangels nodded and turned to clear the corruption from their path with mighty blows. Killa said nothing as she started forward once more. The urge to growl remained even as she found herself grinning again. It was rather fun...all the destruction and dying demons. But every time she saw another piece of beauty destroyed, another patch of corruption tainting the place, the pain reminded her it was not a game.

            As they neared the doorway, shadowy figures dropped down on them from above. Auriel and Itherael immediately attacked the shades as the others fought them off. Tyrael shielded Eirena as Lyndon aided her in destroying those closest. Kormac fought those trying to attack Killa as her bolts found them.

            "Go! Quickly," Itherael's voice echoed around them.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The gateway they entered was so dark and so tainted it barely resembled anything of the Silver City. Even the statues depicting angels were so corrupted they were closer to demonic creatures than sanctified beings. Tyrael stumbled upon seeing the utter devastation of his former home. Eirena immediately went to his side to offer support as he pulled himself together once more. Kormac looked back, sympathy in his own visor-shaded eyes.

            "Look at the destruction Diablo has wrought. If we do not stop him, this is the future of all creation," he said. Tears were gathering in his eyes as he bowed his head. "Though I forsook my home, to see it again like this... Any joy I might have had is replaced with sorrow."(13)

            Killa looked over her shoulder to the mortal angel then turned her attention forward once more. She said nothing as they continued. There was something ahead that gave her a slight chill of alarm. It was different than what they had previously encountered. A sense of dread formed and grew as they drew closer to a ghostly-pale light. The dread solidified when they came face to face with the specter of Leah.

            "How does it feel?" the girl's ghost asked as her hollow eyes stared straight through Killa. "Knowing you helped me become the Prime Evil?" She laughed. "For all your mighty deeds, all you really accomplished was unleashing me upon the world. Some savior you are, nephalem."(14)

            Her dread had continued to grow with every word to fall from Leah's lips. It was exactly how she had been feeling. Always arriving too late. Always a second too late. She never tried hard enough. Always failing. Always too slow, too weak, too distracted. Even with all the power she had, she did nothing but bring death and destruction in her wake. But then one thing shattered the spell leaving her chilled to the bone and her head snapped up.

            "Leah, please!"(15) Lyndon begged, stepping forward with one hand rising.

            "Leah, wait!"(16) Kormac cried, starting forward as the ghost vanished amidst icy laughter.

            "Leah never called me 'nephalem'," Killa growled as her crossbows rose.

            In the next instant, another of the insectoid demons appeared. She had a name for them now as she fired point-blank into that twisted visage, shattering its face. Her fingers caressed the triggers, releasing an unending stream of bolts into the skull, reducing it to pulp as the demon fell, crumbling before her wrath.

            The others shook off the spell that the terror demon had snared them in and gasped in shock as they recovered. Killa checked to make sure they were all fine before pushing forward. The rules had just changed. Her heart was racing with something more than mere adrenaline now. Now, she was reminded of her shortcomings. Her failures. Now, she had more reason than ever to stop Diablo in his tracks.

            As they activated the next conduit to take them into the spire's first level, shadow rippled about the hunter's body. She sensed more obstacles ahead and now she was ready for them. That was, until she saw the next phantom. Again she found herself halting mid-stride as she recognized the shrewd face of the Horadrim traitor that gave her the visions to initially unbalance her and cause her self-control to falter.

            "You killed me without a second thought when I was no longer of use to you," Zoltun Kulle's image accused. "How can you damn those who helped you?"(17)

            Going pale, she stared at the specter as everything he had tempted her with returned. Paired with his words, it was as if he had struck a blow straight on her heart. Wavering, she fought against the sudden doubts she had locked away, the certainty that she would lose herself to chaos and kill those she sought to protect--harm those she had formed bonds with. It was so easy to see them all dead, by her own hand.

            She was so lost in what her mind was presenting her with that she did not notice when the specter vanished and a demon took its place. The great talons rose, spreading and ready to descend upon her frozen form. It was Kormac who shook the spell off first and charged in to bring his shield up as the claws fell.

            "Lies!"(18) he shouted as the talons struck the shield and screeched over the metal.

            Killa came back to her senses when she was jerked against a solid body. Blinking, she became aware of what had happened in the same instant that the templar's shield came alive. Pure white tendrils reminiscent of angelic wings rose from the top of the shield to dance in the air, shedding pure light around them. The corruption clinging to half-destroyed columns burnt away, crumbling away from their feet wherever the light touched. The shield itself glowed and trembled with a pure, beautiful song.

            And in that moment, the angel warrior's words came to both of them at the same instant: _When you seek to protect that which you hold most dear, you will see it come alive..._

            Then the demon roared and the moment was lost as she dropped to one knee and brought both crossbows up. With Kormac shielding from overhead attacks, it was easy to lay a stream of fire to take out the beast's legs. It screeched as it fell and suddenly flame pelted it from above as other arrows struck its constructed body. Eirena and Lyndon lent their aid as Tyrael stood as defense between them and the demon.

            Shaken yet again, Killa kicked the crumbling corpse to make it collapse faster as she walked through it. Kormac followed immediately but wisely remained quiet. He had seen enough on the shocked, pale features to grasp that this battle was going to be harder on the demon hunter than it would be on the rest of them. And even as his shield pulsed with warm light upon his arm, he wondered how he could possibly shield her from herself.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            The deeper they went, the darker the spire became. It made it easier for shades to ambush them. Even though they destroyed the attackers, the small wounds they inflected began to take a toll on Eirena, Lyndon and even Tyrael. In the case of the mortal angel though, it was more than the injuries to his body. It was the growing corruption of his ancient home that ate at him.

            "The fountains of Heaven flowed with the energy of the Crystal Arch. But now look at them..."(19) he said heavily as they passed molten pools spewing burning sulfur into the air.

            Kormac moved closer to them, motioning for Eirena and Lyndon to do the same as he scanned the gloom around them. "The shadows draw close around us. There is no turning back now,"(20) he muttered.

            Killa looked at him then back to Tyrael. Still, she said nothing and moved on along her way. The others kept close, but they were not close enough to prevent what was coming. A sense of danger made her pause and look around. From out of nowhere, a body slammed full-force into hers, sweeping her up off the ground and throwing her hard into a crumbling column. Her flying body broke through the weak stone to bring it crashing down toward the group. They scattered as she struck the far wall and hit the floor.

            Coughing, lurching up onto hands and knees, she looked for her attacker. Aside from shadow and the light cast from the hellish pools of Heaven's corrupted fountains, she saw nothing. Kormac and Tyrael were picking themselves up and helping the others to stand again. Gripping one crossbow tight in her hand, she left the other free as she rose slowly from her crouch. Moving away from the wall as she caught her breath, she turned in a slow circle.

            "The Lord of Terror has emptied the Burning Hells. He sends his entire host against us..."(21) Tyrael said to warn them.

            It struck again, coming from the shadows to slam into Killa's back and again lift her from the ground to send her flying. She tried to twist, feeling a painfully strong grip around her. But it let go before she could secure a hold. Her stomach and chest met the solid stone column soundly and her entire body whipped around it from the force. A loud crack came from the impact as stone broke. Falling to the floor, she landed hard and coughed as the wind was again forced from her lungs.

            "Shandra!"

            Not certain just which of the men had called her name, she pushed herself up slowly. Her arms and legs were both sluggish as her body throbbed with pain. The crack had not been her spine even if her body responded sluggishly, she could still move. Lifting her head, she looked toward the voices. Whatever kept hitting her had placed a good distance between them. It was not a promising sight.

            Rising again, she kept her back to the column that had halted her flight. The crossbow was still in her hand as glowing eyes raked the darkness. Listening, tuning out the sound of her own harsh breathing, she focused. Sure enough, there was a rustle, then a whoosh of wind. It was circling. Tracking it through sound alone, she stared into the gloom without trying to follow it with her eyes. Then it was there again.

            This time she turned to face it. It struck her armored torso and swept her up into the air. She brought her arm up and around, aiming down, and fired a bolt into the creature's back point-blank. It released a paralyzing screech as she used her free hand to grab hold of it. When it released her, she did not go flying. Whipping her body around and up, she snared it with one leg as she fired into its body again and again, searching for any sign of a head.

            It crashed into the ground, trapping her beneath its body and knocking the breath from her lungs again. After so many times of being winded, her lungs barely hesitated to draw in another painful breath. Still she fired until it was clear whatever had struck her was not moving. Sagging back onto the floor, she swallowed hard and turned her attention to the pounding her body had taken. Nothing broken or ruptured. She would feel it later but aside from a throbbing soreness she could continue.

            "Shandra!" Tyrael shouted as he reached her first. Dropping to one knee, he reached out to grab whatever it was on top of her and pull it back. Whatever he saw made him tense and his eyes widen. "No..."

            Lyndon was next to skid to her side and reach out to help her sit up. He accidentally found one of the places on her back that would be a giant bruise soon and made her tense and hiss. Muttering an apology, he shifted his grip. Then Kormac and Eirena were there as well. The templar started to offer her a hand before he saw what had shocked Tyrael and froze as well.

            "Prophet preserve us!" Eirena exclaimed.

            At last, she saw what it was that had attacked her. It was an angel...only, it was not angelic any longer. The garb was blackened and tainted by demonic corruption. The once ethereal wings were skeletal things the color of charcoal. Instead of a mace or sword, it held a blunt scythe gripped in one blighted hand. And seeing it did make her heart seize in horror for a brief moment. But she had already seen angels impaled and tormented, trapped in suffering. The shock of this wore off quickly.

            "Angels may not become demons, but it's clear they're not immune to being corrupted either," she said as she cradled aching ribs.

            Her voice snapped Eirena and Kormac back to the present. But it took the templar shaking Tyrael's shoulder to pull him back from his horror. Eirena immediately hugged him tight. He squeezed her gently before rising. When she let go and stepped back, he brought his sword up and plunged it down into the corrupted angel's body. Light flared and consumed the creature in a blinding flare. It crumbled to char and ash like the demons did.

            Without a word, Killa moved on. She checked the crossbow for damage and reloaded it when she found none. The second was also checked and reloaded as she continued. Tyrael finally caught up and resumed leading them toward their destination. All of them remained silent, caught up in their own thoughts. Only the hunter's eyes flashed when she made her decision and lifted her head once more. She had demons to kill!


	40. Paths Diverge

            When they reached the Great Span, it was a vast change from the place they had just come from. There was almost no corruption present. The walkways were practically untouched. Alert and immediately further on guard, Killashandra and the others continued. As they moved swiftly along the walkway, Tyrael frowned and began to scan the area around them. He slowed, causing Lyndon and Eirena to do the same.

            "Wait..." he called to make the hunter and templar stop and look back. "There is something different here."(1)

            "We know, Tyrael. But we cannot stand here and wonder. If it is a trap--and we know it is--then we need to spring it and keep going. Diablo has not slowed his advance. We must not," Killa said as she turned to continue.

            Kormac sighed suddenly. "Poor Leah. If anything like that ever happened to Eirena..." He did not miss the sharp look he received from those glowing eyes. "By the Light, I don't know what I'd do."(2)

            "I do," Lyndon suddenly spoke up behind them. "Because we're doing it now. Diablo is going to die. If not by the hand of a demon hunter, then by the hand of one of us!"

            The ferocity in the normally cheerful and smooth tone made almost everyone stop to stare at him. Only Killa and Eirena were unsurprised.

            "Lyndon?" Killa asked gently.

            The scoundrel shrugged, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as he glared out over the city. "I can't believe Leah is gone. I keep thinking of her laugh, her smile..." His voice trailed off, softer than any of them had heard it before. "I'll never see her again."(3)

            The enchantress had blushed at the way the conversation had turned before she went over to give Lyndon a hug. It seemed to snap him out of his melancholy a little as he smiled and took a deep breath. They followed the hunter as the other two men stared at one another. Tyrael broke away first with Kormac following a moment later. And the templar started to look between Lyndon and Eirena...but kept his peace.

            "Look, Tyrael...your old lieutenant,"(4) Diablo's voice thundered.

            Ahead of them was another large patch of corruption. But it was different than anything they had encountered before. Strange crystals were clustered about the bases of the columns. They were...unusual things strangely beautiful in their corrupted shapes. A group of angelic warriors had gathered around the largest cluster of them. They had grown over another large hole in the floor, sealing it closed.

            Suddenly, the crystals trembled, raising a nerve-jangling tone. The formation exploded outward, catching the angels in the lethal circle of razor-sharp shards. Glowing silver and icy blue liquid sprayed over the corrupted surface of the floor as they fell to the ground. It was clear they would never rise again. And the creature responsible landed heavily before them in a crouch.

            "Izual," Tyrael breathed.

            "It seems we've both fallen from grace, Tyrael," the demonic creature said. Its flesh was a deep purple while its body was massive with heavily toned muscle. The wings were skeletal and several of the sharp fingers were crowned in gold. More gold decorated the twisted mockery of angelic armor about its great body. "Come, embrace your former lieutenant!"(5)

            With a roar, the demon-angel attacked them. The group scattered as Kormac charged in to provide them a distraction. Tyrael did the same although he had no shield and instead, let Kormac do his task while he struck at the massive weapon Izual used against them. As the two worked to keep the demon's attention, both Lyndon and Killa flanked him, firing into the massively muscled body. Eirena kept her distance as she wove her spells and released several hexes at the creature.

            More angelic warriors arrived on the scene but they held back as if uncertain whether they should join the battle or not. Suddenly, Izual unleashed an attack that the hunter was all too familiar with. Spiked spheres of that strange crystal flew from the sweep of a massive arm, spreading over the ground around them. Vaulting upward, Killa flipped over the one nearest her to land in a clear spot. Lyndon had also been wise enough to move.

            "The chill of Hell will sap the life from your bones!"(6) Izual called with laughter in his deep tone.

            The spheres exploded, catching Tyrael and Kormac in the blast and freezing them solid. Before the demonic angel could shatter them, Eirena surrounded them both with a magical shield. Killa fired into the soft spot bared to her with the lifted arm and the creature roared in pain. His arm fell--and drove the other two bolts that had struck him under his arm deep into his side, puncturing something that caused blood to spurt from his fanged mouth.

            He turned toward her as the enchantress worked to thaw the two men and free them of their prisons. Lyndon was doing his best to weaken the demon with a deluge of poisoned arrows but it seemed Izual was impervious to it. Killa merely backed up, sending her bat in to strike the thing's head. It caught the bat in its free hand and she felt the magic shatter as the conjured creature was pulverized.

            Suddenly, Izual reared back with an agonized howl. Tyrael had been freed and brought his sword in to slice through the tendons in the back of one of his former comrade's calves. It pulled attention back to him as he withdrew, letting Kormac move between him and the giant. Izual only laughed before bringing his free arm up to point at the hovering angels still debating whether they should join or not.

            "You've failed again, Tyrael," Izual said. The angels suddenly twisted and thrashed, screaming--before transforming into the very same type of creature that had managed to beat the hunter's body up a bit. "The corruption cannot be stopped!"(7)

            "But you can!" Killa called.

            Distracted, Izual turned toward her. Kormac caught a glimpse of her as both crossbows rose skyward. Backing into Tyrael, he lifted his shield and used his other arm to yank the mortal angel close enough to be positioned under the bulwark. Then the hunter fired as crimson bled from her eyes. The rain of arrows struck the demon-angel. Anywhere they struck, they burst into flame, consuming his flesh and burning the corruption at his feet so there was nowhere he could avoid the flames.

            Roaring in pain, he reared backward as those lethal wings flared. Lyndon was suddenly there, somehow reaching the demon's shoulder. He threw something about the size of a fist into Izual's open mouth and delivered a blow to the jaw powerful enough to shock the creature into closing it. The swallow was automatic. But the scoundrel was already jumping away, landing hard and tumbling as he tried to gain distance.

            Izual's head and torso exploded into a shower of bone and gore. Tyrael and Kormac managed to miss most of it although it struck the shield. The light burned it away. Killa vaulted backward to avoid the stuff as well and saw that with Izual's death, the newly corrupted angels fell as well. The remainder of the body fell and collapsed upon itself in typical demonic fashion. It left the group to pull together and push onward.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            Finally, they reached the second level of the spire. However, when confronted by the third specter, the demon truly chose a poor form to take. Killa had no recollection of anyone named Marius. He seemed to focus more upon Tyrael than her however so it was of no trouble for her to destroy the deceptive demon that had tossed the ex-angel into past memories. They pressed on once more.

            More corrupted angels met them as they proceeded through the hellish transformation of the heavens. Each time Tyrael grew more grim. No longer did he let his feelings slow him down or make him hesitate. It was saddening but also reassuring to the hunter. She ceased paying such close attention to him and more attention to her hunt. As they pressed on, she almost missed some of the talk her friends shared. Almost.

            "It is good to have you with us again, Tyrael,"(8) Kormac said.

            The mortal angel nodded. "I am sorry to have worried you. There was much I had to overcome."(9)

            "Yes," the templar replied. "We all have our regrets, don't we?"(10)

            Something in Kormac's voice made her look at him. His eyes met hers and locked as they continued to walk. When she said nothing, he looked away. It was Eriena who spoke up.

            "What do you regret, Kormac?"

            "I have thought on it for quite some time. Perhaps I did misjudge Lyndon. He is not quite the villain I thought he was."(11)

            No one had ever looked as shocked as the scoundrel did upon hearing those words. The enchantress merely smiled though.

            "You impress me, Kormac," Killa said. "You don't strike me as the type to admit his mistakes."(12)

            "Even a templar can err, Shandra,"(13) he replied.

            Again their eyes met and locked. She understood he was trying to say something. But this time, she had no clue what it was he was trying to communicate. It was not the same as the way they fought with looks or shouts or signals. This was different. And it left her feeling oddly lost. Just as it was clearly starting to frustrate him.

            "As long as you live, it is never too late to make amends or make things right," Tyrael was saying. "The only way it is too late is if you refuse to summon the courage to do it before the end."

            They lapsed into silence for a ways more. Then more demons met them and they set to fighting their way through the second level of the spire. All the while, Killa was turning over the words spoken by the group to try and find what remained unspoken. It proved to be elusive in a way that would have annoyed her had she time to indulge in that emotion. As it was, she found herself pressed to focus on the attacks being thrown at them with increasing numbers. Diablo was getting nervous.

            What truly made her pause was yet another vision of bound angels. They were adhered to the very columns supporting the second tier, their glowing wings locked in vile corruption pinned like butterflies in a collector's display case. Liquid light flowed from their wounds as they thrashed and struggled against the demonic magic binding them in place. To see them thrashing vainly to free themselves was somehow just as bad as coming upon the angels impaled on the lesions like trophies.

            Tyrael and Kormac were the ones to take over releasing the bound spirits as Lyndon, Eirena and Killa provided adequate cover. But it was not that easy to remain detached from what she saw. When another swarm of shades and corrupted angels swept down to ambush them, it scattered the entire group as they set up a cross-fire that had proven effective against the lost angels before. It left Killa a little further from the rest as one of the fallen creatures pursued her.

            Just as the first to appear had, it slammed into her bodily, sending her flying further from the others. Unfortunately for the corrupted one, she had also learned how to take their circling, diving attacks and still find their weak points. In a few shots and another tackle, her attacker crumbled. It had driven her into a corner during the fight. And as she picked herself up once more, she discovered she was not alone.

            One angel was stuck to the wall. The black taint that held him was fresh with hints of smoldering red embers still present in it. His wings were bent, pinned in a broken spread against the stone. Half of his lower body was completely gone, covered in the corruption trapping him in agony and torment. When she drew near, he lifted his head with a groan that made ice form in her stomach. One arm rose, hand reaching out to her as it shook with the pain the effort caused. Her hand grasped the gauntlet before she was aware of moving.

            "Nephalem..." the angelic warrior gasped and she recognized the voice. "...I should...have helped you...like my brother did. Please...forgive me..."

            Her eyes stung for a moment as she looked at the angel that she had seen so alive and fighting so fiercely not long before. That he was here, trapped, tormented, made her wonder what had happened to the others that were with him and the one that had loaned Kormac the armor. But, she did not ask. It mattered little. Bringing her other arm up, she brought the crossbow in to hover near his chest.

            "There is nothing to forgive. You were doing your duty. I swear, I will make them pay for this."

            There was a sense of something as the angel's helm fell forward. A rushing sigh escaped him as he squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he gasped and her finger squeezed the trigger.

            The bolt struck his chest and shattered his armor. Bluish-white light splattered over the weapon and her arm, striking her face and marking her armor. The metal plates crumpled, breaking apart as the angel's soul slipped free of the corruption to become light rising through the darkness toward the ceiling above. Her hand closed on the empty air, curling into a fist where it had held a solid hand just a moment before.

            Without a word, she turned to head back toward the others. Tyrael took one look at the slowly fading light splattering her armor with icy blue and said nothing. They moved onward, and finally, they reached the final conduit that would send them to the pinnacle. It was there, as Tyrael checked the device and activated it, that Kormac spoke once more.

            "I do not fear death," he said almost softly. "But sometimes...I wish I had seen more of life.(14)

            Tyrael looked up as light flashed and grew in the conduit. "What do you mean?"(15)

            But Kormac's gaze was fixed on the hunter. Feeling the weight, she turned and again found herself staring deep into the rich emeralds there as they were lit from within by holy light. "I wonder if love is as evil as the order claimed."(16)

            She felt her heart skip a beat as she finally understood what he had been trying to convey. Because once again she saw that warmth in his eyes, felt it wrap around her. Only once before in her life had she felt the sensations before and it again made her eyes tear up as she remembered. It was love. Love, that had been torn away from her and replaced by terror and hopelessness. Love that she had been given in the cave and seen in his eyes. Love, that she had been years without feeling with only hatred to strengthen her.

            "Well..." he sighed and looked to Tyrael "It's not important now."(17)

            The painful lump in her throat bound her to silence. Taking a slow, deep breath, she sought to calm her sudden chaotic emotions. But the warmth was still there, aching deep in her heart as she finally felt all the years of self-delusion shatter. It was like broken glass shredding her heart...while the warmth filled its cold shell and healed it once more. That was what hurt more than anything. And for just a moment, she could not remember how to hate.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            They arrived at the pinnacle in once piece. Ahead she saw the tell-tale light of angelic wings. But it was not cause for relief. Something in the very air alerted her to trouble. But as Tyrael went forward, she followed. Sharp eyes scanned the area to see six warriors marching forward, forming a column facing one another at attention. Then...Imperius spun and saw her.

            "Nephalem, I see you did not heed my warning. Or perhaps you think yourself strong enough to face me?"(18)

            Her eyes narrowed as rage and hatred returned to her like old friends. Warmth in her heart or not, it was not so easy to lose nearly twenty years of hatred in a few moments. Red flashed in her glaring eyes as she regarded the head of the Angiris Council. "If I weren't pressed for time, I just might consider it."(19)

            Tyrael moved forward as he sensed the fight brewing between the two. Placing himself in Imperius's line of sight, he spread his hands. "Imperius, stop this madness! Diablo is the enemy here, not the nephalem!"(20)

            "Tyrael, I will deal with you soon enough. I will--" he broke off as there was a sudden quake within the ground and shadow flared around them. "What is this? No! Diablo has reached the Arch!"(21)

            Suddenly, every angel present cried out, thrashing and crashing to the floor. The light of their wings went out, as all light in the chamber was snuffed save for the corrupted glow of the tainted water spilling to either side of the walkway. The angels still breathed, moving feebly on the ground like flies that had been sprayed out of the air with poison. Tyrael stepped forward through them.

            "No! Diablo has begun extinguishing the Crystal Arch; that's why the angels have fallen! If its light should go out forever... We must defeat Diablo before that happens!"(22)

            "Even the angels cannot help us now, Tyrael. You were wise to shed those wings of yours,"(23) the hunter said as she moved forward to step over Imperius's crumpled form.

            "Diablo's vile corruption bars our path. Stand back--El'druin's light shall clear the way!"(24)

            Turning, the mortal angel brought his sword up as he faced the doors. In a mighty swing, the weapon unleashed a shaft of light that tore across the ground to strike the doors. Black corruption was burnt away, falling like ash from the barriers. The crystal symbol stretching across the middle of them flared and the doors opened. Breathing heavily, Tyrael turned back to the hunter and her friends.

            "The gate has been opened, nephalem," Tyrael said. There was a strange resignation to his voice that made her stare straight at him. "This last trial is yours alone."(25)

            Then she understood. He would not follow her. Perhaps he could not. While that was all right, to suddenly have it spelled out that she would be on her own without any guidance...made her uncertain. Then she berated herself. Twenty years a demon hunter, twelve of those on her own without guidance or mentors. She could handle less than an hour more.

            "I never thought I would fight alongside an angel. Now I can scarcely imagine going on without you."(26)

            A smile touched the weathered face before he stepped forward--and pulled Killa into a tight embrace. "It was an honor." Pulling back, he released her and backed away. "But this is the moment you were made for--this is the hour of mankind's victory!"(27)

            Nodding once, she turned toward the open doorway revealing stairs beyond. Just a few stairs away, one of the original Prime Evils--now THE Prime Evil--waited. Not only that, it was Diablo. The one demon lord she had desired to face since learning that he was the one behind the demon attack that slaughtered her parents and drove her sister into madness. Only then did she realize another reason Tyrael was not accompanying her. He had been the archangel of Justice. And now she would be facing the very source of her own injustice.

            Heart racing with new emotions forgotten or abandoned since that nightmarish night, she started forward. Eirena had already gone to see if she could do anything for the angels on the ground and Lyndon was lingering near her protectively. She did not need to look back to know Kormac was following her. He was a warm beacon of sunlight amidst a world her darkness passed through. Warmth drove away any lingering chill of doubt as she climbed the stairs upward...


	41. A Bad Feeling...

            As they topped the stairs, they came upon the same corruption that had tainted the Heavens every step of the way. Only, the moment she stepped upon the residue, something about the way the corruption had spread struck her as odd. It was not quite the same as the rest. No unusual crystals were present but something about the taint seemed...smoother. The floor was stained dark but they did not walk over raised bits like before. And here, it formed spikes like rails along the sides of the walkway.

            "Shandra, wait," Kormac said, causing her to pause even though she kept scanning the area around them for danger. "Before we face that abomination, there is something you should know."(1)

            Her glowing eyes turned toward him as she listened.

            "When we first met, I thought you unfocused and corrupted by revenge," he admitted. "I was wrong."(2)

            Blinking a few times, her rising ire faded as he stepped closer to her and made certain she was looking into his eyes as one gauntleted hand reached out to take one of hers. "You are more honorable, more disciplined, than anyone I have ever known."(3)

            Taken aback by the sheer blatancy of such a confession--even though she had heard him speak about Lyndon--floored her. Killa cleared her throat, "It is nothing but choosing where you will fight. Do not let your fears pursue you. Turn and face them. Fight them."(4)

            He began to smile behind the shadow of the faceplate but she could still see hints of it through gaps. "I will."(5)

            He gave her hand a squeeze then released it. Suddenly feeling awkward, the hunter turned to move on, thankful that the hood concealed the burning of her ears and cheeks, and disguised what was visible of the blush thanks to the red dye of the fabric. But even so flustered, she was unable to forget or ignore the sense of danger ahead. Ready for a trap, she had a split second of warning.

            "Jump!" she snapped as she vaulted forward.

            Kormac moved a moment too late. Spikes snapped upward from the ground as the illusion vanished to reveal the familiar web coating the floor rather than stained stone. The spikes slammed into the templar's body and sent him flying backward only to crash into more rising spikes. They closed like a pincher, trapping the templar in a nightmarish cage. He struggled against the tight grip as Killa got back to her feet and headed back toward him.

            "I've been trapped!" he growled, straining against the immoveable objects. Sagging the two inches he could move, he forced his head around to look at her. "You'd best go on without me."(6)

            Ignoring him, she reached out to test one of the spikes. It did not give. Gripping it tighter, she tried to force it to bend toward her in hopes of breaking it. Not even an inch was gained as it remained locked in position. Growling, she tried with both hands as he pushed. Nothing. It did not budge. And she found her rage rising again as she glared at the trap.

            "So, this is where the journey ends," Kormac said as he settled. "Regardless of how, it has been an honor fighting by your side, Shandra."(7)

            Although part of her was raging and screaming that she could get him out if she just took a little more time to try, she knew better. Time was one thing she did not have. And she refused to be too late again. Her hand slid through the cage to reach his neck given his helm was wedged against the top of the trap and gave no quarter for her to touch his face.

            "Though I don't often join with others, your friendship has meant much to me."(8)

            Their eyes met. And once more, for the last time, they understood what had not been spoken aloud. Those beautiful green eyes glistened with a hint of tears and she leaned in to press a kiss to the cold metal of his helmet. It was the only place she could get close to his mouth. His breath was warm where it passed through the visor to wash across her lips and cheek. She made herself pull back and smile.

            "I swear to you, Kormac of the Templar Order," she said as she backed away, never breaking eye contact. "Diablo, the Prime Evil, will fall this day. If by my hatred, my pain, my blood, my life, or my death I can bring him down once and for all...I will."

            Shock entered Kormac's eyes at the close familiarity of those words as the hunter continued to back away. Then he saw something in her eyes that made a cold fist grip his heart. He had seen that look before on others.

            "I was made for this.(9) And I will gladly fulfill my purpose!"

            She turned and broke into a run as he found his throat constricting and preventing him from calling out, calling her back. By the time he could swallow, she was too far away for him to bother. And it only made the fist crushing his heart tighten as he tried to make himself breathe around the pain. Struggling against the cage again, he thrashed like a mad beast before growling.

            "Tyrael! I could use some help!" he called back.

            "I figured as much," came a familiar, smooth voice. "Walked right into another trap? Honestly, templar...didn't we already talk about this?" Lyndon asked as he took a vial from a pouch on his belt and tilted it over one of the bars to see if it had an effect. The liquid hissed and popped, eating slowly into the stuff. Humming with false cheerfulness, the scoundrel worked his way around the bars holding the templar.

            "Kormac," Lyndon said as he poured the last of the liquid in the vial over the base of the bars. "Do you...have a funny feeling?"

            "What do you mean?" the templar asked as he gave the first treated bar a hard shove. It cracked but did not yet move.

            The scoundrel paused and straightened, looking toward the stairs the hunter had vanished up. "I...just have this strange feeling..."

            A little give permitted the templar to sink down enough he could turn his head to look to the thief standing at his side. He saw the worry and strange, saddened resignation on Lyndon's face. Suddenly, he felt his stomach sink as he looked in the same direction.

            "...like you're never going to see her again?" Kormac finally asked.

            Neither said another word as they stared after her. But both understood they could not follow her as much as they each might have wanted to. All they could do...all the world could do...was wait to see if the day would come, or if they would fall deeper into eternal night for all creation.


	42. Facing the Fears

            Her heartbeat matched the cadence of her boots ringing on the steps as she ran. Every step drove a sharp jolt of sensation up through her legs and her battered body to remind her of every blow that had been struck, every bruise acquired, every minute scrape or cut she had obtained. Not even the sound of her footsteps on stone could prevent the rise of a strange sensation that she had done this before.

            Memory rose around her as glowing eyes saw shadowed breaks in the ground before her, overlaying the stairs. Her face and limbs stung with phantom cuts made by whipping branches. Her arms ached from carrying a weight greater than half her own. Her lungs burned with remembered need of air they could not draw in fast enough to meet the demands of her flying feet. She remembered, and her eyes burned crimson with hatred.

            The warmth of sunlight was behind her as she plunged into darkness. The scent of smoke and burning flesh filled her mouth with the taste of death and char. Her ears rang with the screams of terror and agony carried on the wind and forever echoing in her mind. Onward she ran, into the darkness, into the fear...away from all she had loved and all she had known. Before her was a single point of limitless evil that burned as fiercely as her vengeance. And as she ran, the shadows took form at her heels, bearing their fangs and letting their tongues loll in open jaws as the wolves raised the chilling cry of the hunt.

            Killashandra reached the summit of the stairs and saw her quarry at last. Slowing her head-long rush, she caught her breath and glared from the shadows of the hood at the figure before her. Wolves snarled, hackles rising as the shadowy pack milled and churned behind her, circling in restless anticipation for the blood to come. Her prey had its back to her, utterly focused on the crystal arch surrounding them as pulsing surges of dark corruption flowed from the outspread arms to darken the light.

            " **DIABLO!** " she screamed in rage.

            There was a distinct pulse in the flow of corruption fighting against the harmonious music that she only just heard coming from the darkening crystal. Slowly, her quarry turned with flawless grace only one suspended in the air could have. The fearsome visage did nothing to her when the burning eyes opened. She met the glare with her own as she stood there, one arm at her side, the other raised so the crossbow aimed skyward. The Prime Evil stopped his work and dropped to stand on the gilded floor.

            "The seven Evils are one within me!" he roared as his tail coiled and lashed the air with the lethal promise of both serpent and scorpion. "I am LEGION!"(1)

            "I have killed legions before," she said simply.

            "Indeed, but because of you, the seven are no longer divided. Because of you, all their power, all their knowledge, all of their abilities...are mine."

            "And when I defeat you, all that remains is the scattered remnants of your surviving legions."

            Diablo began to move forward one slow step at a time. He struck her as a stalking beast. Rather than feel intimidated, a rush of anticipation made her lips twitch into a smile just above the folds of cloth that formed the hood's mask. Her thumb moved to press the switch on the lifted crossbow. The click was sharp as several more bolts were loaded along the curve of the bow, ready and waiting. It did not even make Diablo hesitate.

            " _When?_ Is this confidence...or arrogance?" he asked as his tail slowly twisted and undulated behind him.

            "Does it matter? When this is over, only one of us will remain."

            "Your hatred makes you powerful, nephalem, but you are not the god your predecessors believed themselves to be."

            "No, I'm not," she said as she slowly bowed her head forward. Again her thumb moved and the crossbow resting at her side clicked, loading multiple bolts in a wicked fan across the arc. "But I am an Army. Of One."

            The runes etched upon her armor flared as the shadowy wolves sprang forward. The dried blood of angels splattering her armor pulsed with light as the sigils she had traced within each pale blue marking came alive. The shrieks of bats and ravens came as a cloud of them surged up over her shoulders like nightmarish wings. Spiders hissed as they boiled up from the openings in the floor to either side of the Prime where parts of the crystal arch were visible.

            Diablo roared as she brought both crossbows to bear and fired. Charging forward, the Prime met the mass of conjured creatures with great sweeps of his arms and tail. Even as they fell upon him, Killashandra was moving. Her bolts flew through the air, narrowly missing the swift form of the demon as he crushed bats and spiders in his wake. Great blasts of flame seared wolves and ravens. Magic broke as creature after creature fell. But the fangs had torn open the hard flesh, claws had left glowing tears against red. White webbing hissed and crackled where green venom ate at it and the tough flesh beneath.

             A great blast of flame lanced through the air toward her. One heel dug into the corruption making the smooth stone floor rough. Twisting in place, she dropped only to leap upward and vault over the ball of flame to land in a crouch in the clear. She had not had any chance to refresh her stock of caltrops but she still had her reserves. In the instant her feet returned to the floor, she dropped one crossbow to pull two small devices from one of the pouches on her belt. A flick of her thumb and she threw them at the advancing Prime.

            Grabbing the crossbow once more, she somersaulted further away only to spin and fire once more. The two grenades flew through the air. Diablo brought one of his main arms up to strike one, sending it flying. The other flew past his guard to explode almost directly against his chest. Roaring in pain and rage, he spun to leap forward just as the second grenade went off. It threw the angle of his jump off so he landed beside her rather than on top of her. The hunter was already vaulting away, leaving another object on the floor behind.

            It exploded the moment the Prime's foot touched it, sending him flying backward. Still moving, the hunter turned and unleashed a steady stream of fiery red bolts after the tumbling body. Another roar shook the floor and the arch itself before Diablo slammed his fists into the ground. Flame exploded from his very body even as the first bolts struck. They were burnt away before their magic could eat into his body and the rest were blasted clear of him. But the ground continued to tremble.

            Moving on instinct, Killa vaulted away just as spikes snapped up from the floor to attempt to snare her as they had snared the templar below. Suddenly on the defensive, she vaulted from one spot to another as more traps sprang upward every time she landed, snapping closed just short of capturing her. In the haste, she lost track of her quarry only to have a monumental force slam into her from behind and send her flying over one of the arch's projections.

            Hitting the floor hard, she cried out as something crunched painfully in her chest. Diablo was there before she could move and one of his mighty hands slammed her back into the floor. The stone shattered, crumbling as he jerked her body up. Bits and pieces of the marble fell as his talons dug deep into her armor, piercing to slice into the flesh beneath. Crying out again, she whipped her head around to glare into the Prime's face and make her snared body move.

            One leg came up as she kicked the nightmarish grin away from her. The talon projecting over her heel caught on the wound Imperius had made in Diablo's cheek and tore it open further. Roaring in rage, he squeezed her like an insect. Even as a scream of pain tore from her throat, she brought her free arm up and around to fire another bolt point-blank into his neck. His roar became one of agony to match her voice.

            "ENOUGH!"(2) he shouted as he slammed her into the floor and sent her flying with a solid strike of his tail. One of his other hands rose to tear the black bolt free, using his own fire to sear the injury closed and destroy the magic eating at his body.

            "Let us see how you fare in my Realm of Terror!"(3) he spat at her as blackened red lines drew themselves beneath her slowly rising body.

            Shadow rose, tangling around her arms and legs, yanking her down against the demonic symbol as it finished drawing itself. There was only a moment for her to look down and see the pattern of the demonic circle before the shadows closed around her and she was pulled away. Darkness ate at her senses, stole away her vision as she fell...fell...and struck the ground hard. Wind instantly tore at her, dragging her over the sands and lifting the small grains to drive them into her exposed face, battering her from all sides.

            Grinding her teeth together against the pain, she pushed herself up. Her fingers dug into the hard, parched earth to stop her slide. The moment she did, the wind ceased to pull and instead blew outward. Then she could see. Darkness had not consumed her, it had drown her. The wind held it back to place her in the heart of a cyclone as darkness seethed at the edges, fighting to close upon her again. And from the wall of wind and shadow, a large shape came into view as Diablo's burning eyes locked onto her.

            "Only by defeating us can you return to your own realm!" he said, leering at her. The leer became a grin as he laughed and his skeletal head withdrew from sight. "But none have ever crawled from the depths of their own terror!"(4)

            Scanning the dark winds for a sign of attack, she stood and reloaded her crossbows. Nothing came for her as she caught her breath, ignoring the tickle of blood oozing beneath and over her armor. Cautiously, she stepped forward to approach the edge of the cyclone. It moved with her. And as she began to make her way forward, the winds revealed the ground to be carved with circle after circle of demonic influence with very little room to step between or over them. Something warned her not to set foot on them.

            Making her way slowly, she felt her racing heart begin to settle as she regained control of her rage. Still, nothing. Pressed for time, she began to move a little more swiftly although she still minded where she placed her feet. Then the shadows shifted away from something marking a difference on the otherwise featureless ground. Slowing, she scanned the limited area she could see before turning her attention to the object. It was a knife. Small, plain, a touch of blood on its blade...and very familiar.

            Her arm throbbed suddenly, just below the fleshy part of her shoulder. And it clicked. Head jerking up, she brought her weapons to the ready and turned. Then she saw it. Even though she knew it was a trap, she moved forward. The body was fresh, pliable and only a little of the blood was left to trickle sluggishly when she nudged it. The corpse slid, arm falling when it rolled onto its back--and she saw the guard's empty eyes staring at her. A familiar black quarrel was lodged in his chest and his face...

            "Dad!" a boy's voice cried.

            Jerking her focus away from the familiar body, she turned to look into green eyes. They were wide in shock and fear. When they rose to meet hers, she felt her breath catch. Suddenly the ground melted away. She stood amidst hundreds of corpses, thousands. It was not solid ground she stood upon but the corpses of people. There were bodies of black and red armor from Bastion's Keep, the rag-tag colors of Tristram Militia, the exotic headdresses and red of the Iron Wolves, the blue and silver of Westmarch guards.

            She stood upon the bodies and each one she saw had a familiar arrow or bolt lodged in them marking the killing blow. Even those ravaged by claw and fang or blade and fire...none were missing one of her arrows. Her heart skipped a beat as she surveyed the carnage. Only the boy remained alive. Unbidden, she looked back to him--only to find he had been replaced by the grown version.

            "Kormac..." she said, feeling her chest seize in pain. "I didn't..."

            "I did what you wanted," he said in a ragged voice as she stared at him. "Everything you demanded...I did...I gave you everything...but you killed him. I asked you to save them, I believed you would save them...and you killed them. All of them!"

            His words hurt more than her injuries. As she saw the accusation in his eyes, the betrayal in how he looked at her, she could not look at him any longer. But the only thing she could look to were the corpses.

            "I trusted you to...to be the hero! Even though I knew you were twisted by vengeance, you...you took us to Hell! How could you do this? All of this? Was it all lies?" he continued.

            "Kormac...it wasn't me...I didn't...I couldn't!"

            "We believed in you!" he cried.

            Motion drew her attention and she found herself drawing a painfully sharp breath as she saw Lyndon crawling toward her. His clothing was torn, body bloodied by a whip. The once rakishly handsome face was distorted by the swelling of a black eye and broken jaw. His arms were chained together by prison manacles and his fingers were bloody from clawing at some unforgiveable surface. His skin was marked by brands familiar to her as those given prisoners and traitors.

            Eyes widening, she tore her gaze away only to see Haedrig sitting a little further down the pile of bodies she stood on. He was cradling his wife's shattered skull on his lap, weeping and begging her to come back, that he had not meant it, that he had been forced to hurt her. Throat tightening, she found she could not swallow past the pain. Especially not when her eyes found very familiar corpses beyond Kormac.

            Leah lay sprawled, body charred and torn apart by demonic claws, eyes wide and staring. Upside-down above her was Cain, the old man's body ravaged by curses and twisted out of proportion as he smoked from the failed pyre. Nearby was her first mentor's body, impaled on a large pole, stomach and chest carved with demonic sigils, a black bolt through her exposed breast, jaw torn completely off to leave her tongue hanging against her throat. The pole was held up by the body of her second mentor, his stomach ruptured by the base, one arrow piercing what had been a blue eye, another lancing through his throat.

            More bodies, faces she held names for, other faces that meant little save that they had died for being near her, for traveling with her, for speaking to her. She did not realize she was spinning. Her horrified gaze went from body to body, seeing evidence of her involvement, back and forth and around as her throat closed further, locking a scream inside. At last, she could not take it and brought her hands up to cover her ears as she fell to her knees to scream.

            "A demon hunter leaves only death and destruction in their wake. Demons may torture, kill, terrorize, but they kill everything they come across. You aren't even that merciful, are you? You leave families broken, villages half alive, children orphaned, parents childless. You kill...but you always leave something alive to suffer for the rest of their years."

            Breath catching violently on her sobs, fists covering her ears, she had no idea how she could hear the voice. All she knew was that she was hearing it and the words peeled away every pathetic defense she struggled to bring to bear.

            "You're no better than what you hunt. In fact, you're worse than the demons," the voice continued and she no longer had a clue who it belonged to. "How does it feel knowing you have failed those who depended on you?"(5)

            Suddenly, she caught her breath and held it as a memory rose. A young boy in the middle of chaos and war. He hid in the keep. The son of a soldier...and he had looked at her. The look in his eyes... Her own opened to stare into the empty eyes of the corpse she had collapsed on. There was nothing in its eyes. But the boy...he had looked at her, not expecting pain, not expecting perfection. He wanted...what? What had he wanted when she stopped to reach out and ruffle his hair? A smile.

            "You're wrong..."

            Killa slowly lowered her hands away from her head as she held onto that smile on the child's face. As she caught her breath and forced her lungs to stop hitching, she lifted her head. The vision of Kormac stood before her still. Slowly, she began to rise as her grip tightened on her crossbows.

            "What?"

            "You. Are. Wrong," she stated as fire ignited in her eyes once more. "I bring death. I bring pain. I bring sorrow. But unlike demons, I bring hope in my wake."

            That was what she had seen in the boy's eyes. The light borne of rekindled hope. It was the simple hope that all children had, that adults took for granted. The hope that the nightmare would end and the sun emerge behind the fleeing darkness once more. Even if she was part of that darkness, she was the last glimpse of it before the light returned. And with tears wetting her cheeks, she faced her fear with a glare.

            Kormac's image flickered and twisted. It was brief, and had she blinked she might have missed it. She did not blink. Red infused her eyes as she brought her weapons up and fired them into the image's face. The illusion shattered and the shade that replaced it brought her own weapons up to bear. Ducking, Killa vaulted to the side. The piles of corpses returned to the demon-scarred ground as she landed straddling one of the circles without touching it. Her shadow was moving as well.

            "Your nephalem power will not help you in this realm, mortal!"(6)

            But the shadow was not the hunter. As they circled and dove and danced, it was the shadow that began to weaken as burning shafts struck its arms and legs, crippling and slowing it until she could move into position. One shot ended the shadow in an inhuman scream. The illusion vanished only to be replaced by the dark figure of Diablo barreling from the wind-wall into the circle. Springing backward, she loosed a hail of fiery bolts toward the shade. It could not move fast enough to evade them all as it roared in pain and fled back into the darkness.

            Rather than wait, she sprang after the fleeing figure. It slid out of her sight. The next instant she came upon another shadow. Prepared to just destroy it and run on, she found herself stopping in her tracks when it lifted its head. Eyes widening, she stared down into the face of her little sister. There could be no mistaking the wider-spaced eyes, the roundness of a pixie face, the slight differences in the way her body and head developed compared to her arms and legs. So human, but so different.

            The girl smiled as she saw Killa and released a bright, bubbling laugh as she lifted her arms in her way of asking for a hug or to be picked up. She had only ever done that with their parents or with Killa. Forgetting everything in the shock of seeing the image, the hunter stood there, unaware that her bow fell away from the girl's face. Still laughing and grinning with those half-grown teeth showing, she made an unsteady way toward her, still asking for a hug.

            Again she felt heat scalding and burning her cheeks. Her memories rose as the shadow faded around her, replaced by the music of a village in celebration. Young men and women leapt and spun in energetic dance as their elders were more reserved but no less enthusiastic. Suddenly, she was in the loft watching them dance from above as her sister giggled and laughed beside her. And this time, as she saw her mother and father dancing...she knew what was coming.

            "Hope follows you? Did it follow you here? Did it stay beside you when you chose to let them all die?" came the dark voice.

            It was happening all over again. She saw the strange change in the fire. Watching it, she was silent as she saw the first demon form and rise from a swirling black portal mostly hidden by the base of the timbers forming the bonfire. Not once did she call out--even as she thought about it--to warn the dancers below. Even when her little sister went oddly quiet, she did not cry or scream as fear made her heart race.

             The skeletal face in the flames twisted into a grin as the creature rose and a barbed tail whipped out to skewer a woman. Lifting her into the air, a giant clawed hand grabbed her and tore her in two. Roaring, the demon turned to crush another dancer under a cloven foot as the fire danced along the four giant spikes rising from its back like wings.

            "You could have saved them if you had just made a sound."

            Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she watched the demon tear villagers apart, blast others with fire, strike others that turned on their friends the moment they rose again. And then those black claws grabbed her mother to lift her into the air. The woman screamed as blood flowed from her stomach and back. That vicious tail whipped around and slithered forward like a snake under her kicking legs. Even as she somehow knew what was to happen, she could not scream as her mother screamed when the tail impaled her, bursting through her body and ripping her jaw free when it broke from her mouth.

            Unable to even breathe, Killa watched her father run away from the beast. It drew the demon's attention as it spun and lashed out. The long arm knocked her father off his feet and sent him crashing into the wall of a house. Grabbing his leg, the demon dragged the screaming man back toward it. The other hand rose only to slam down, driving those hooked claws into his back and yanking him into the air as her mother twisted and jerked like a horrible puppet, still impaled on the lashing tail.

            It was wrong. All of it was wrong. Her father never screamed in fear. He never ran away. He never left her mother alone. Her mother...had not died that way. Suddenly she found she could tear her eyes from the horrible scene before her to look to her sister. Her beautiful, special little sister--with glowing red eyes. One had burst, trailing slime down her cheek and face. Her fingernails were bloody, her lips and teeth torn. She laughed again--and Killa felt the solid weight of a crossbow in her hand.

            Bringing it up, she stared into her little sister's burning eye as she brought the arrowhead to that laughing mouth...and pulled the trigger. She did not even flinch when the gore and blood struck her face and chest, splattering her. Heart racing with rage hotter than the fire that suddenly flared around her as she dropped into the heart of the bonfire, she took aim and launched a new attack at the shade of Diablo.

            Her scream mingled with the shocked roar of the demon as the illusion vanished in clouds of darkness. Rage, pain and hatred consumed the hunter--and she pulled it all into her as she drove the shade backward, firing bolt after bolt into its stumbling body. The shade hissed and leapt into the wall of wind once more as she broke into a run after it. No longer did she pay mind to the circles on the ground. She ceased to care. The only thing she wanted was that demon at her feet, crumbling into ash.

            "You cannot defeat your own terror!"(7) the shade roared into the void around her.

            "WATCH ME!" she screamed back.

            The head-long rush brought her straight through the wall of wind, into the darkness, and out into a large chamber. She skidded to a stop to look around. It was more than familiar to her. The ceiling rose so high above her it was lost in a smoky haze. Around her were the charred forms of giants smoldering in the unending torment. The music of their agonized groans and muffled screams embraced her like the heat.

            "You think this will stop me?" she yelled as she looked for the specter she had to kill to destroy it. Even though she had an idea what this would be, it did nothing to prepare her for the actual sight.

            She stood watching herself use the lash she had taken from the succubus when they freed their human pets. Kormac was pinned on hands and knees by heavy chains driven into the stone. His back was a bloody mess and every time the equally bloody lash fell, it tore a ragged scream from his ravaged throat. Her heart skipped a beat and she forgot to breathe when she was suddenly consumed by a familiar, twisted hunger.

            Breathless, she froze and just watched herself circle her prey. Unlike before, she was not tracing a circle on the stone floor. She was stripping away his flesh and spirit strike by strike. His tears were darkening the floor under his head as his blood spread in a pool under his body. At last, unlike before, his arms refused to hold him up and he collapsed into his own blood, writhing in futile effort to escape. Only then did she stop.

            The lash slithered over the stone, playfully licking at his shoulder and making him flinch. But he did not try to rise, did not try to escape. When she had coiled it in one hand, she stepped around to his head and rested her fists on her hips. Slowly, the bloody templar moved his arms. Without reaching for her, he drug his broken body across the floor to her feet and lifted his head to nuzzle her boots.

            "Killashandra...please!" he gasped, breath hitching with deep sobs. "Please..."

            "Please what, templar?" she sneered as shadow slithered around her body like a living thing.

            Sobbing, he sagged before trying to push himself up a little more. It took a monumental effort that left his body trembling, but he looked up at her. "Please...purge me...of my sins..."

            "Good pet," her image said and smiled when Kormac kissed her feet again.

            Trembling, panting, shivering in the conflicting emotions, she just stared at the tableau as her double sank down to viciously grab the sweat and blood-soaked hair and force Kormac up to claim his mouth for a kiss brutal enough that blood trickled over his cheeks from their lips.

            "Is this your vision of hope and light? Is this what it means to be nephalem? Do you really think you're not like a demon?"

            The pain sliced through her sharper than any blade. It hurt because it was true. She wanted it. That dark hunger for his screams, for his agony, for him to worship her...it was all there. Even as she watched herself kick the broken templar away, saw two demons grab him and haul him up to hold as her copy spun to start working bloody strips across his chest, she admitted she wanted it all. His blood. His screams. His agony. His devotion. His soul. His heart.

            His heart. Blinking, she frowned at that thought. For a moment she was hyper-aware of her own heartbeat. A heart that beat strong, that raced, that ached, that was cold, that was hard, that was dark. A heart devoid of almost all light that granted compassion and kindness. Or...did it?

            "Your desires are the same as any of us. You've tasted what it is to feed off of agony. You know how sweet it is to have broken a spirit and reshaped it. But you have never indulged in the richness and power another gives you. You are no demon, you are less than demon. How could anyone want that?"

            Killa was no longer listening even if she heard the words. Watching the scene, she found her heart beating for another reason. It hurt. Every pulse it ached. Every strike of the whip it hurt. Every time he screamed...yes it made her tingle and hunger, but why would she be crying? The only time she had ever cried was...when that warmth was around her. Warmth. Comfort. Compassion. Shelter. Peace.

            "...love."

            The shadows grew darker as the stone floor faded, paling and gaining lines. The illusion slipped. Then it grew stronger again as something new entered it. Two more demons--succubi--dragging another figure between them. Her double turned away from Kormac to face them. And a familiar young woman was thrown roughly at the copy's feet. When a bloodied hand grabbed the pale golden hair to wrench her head up--it was Eirena. Kormac cried out sharply in alarm, all pretense of affection for her copy lost as that warm light filled his eyes. It was for Eirena.

            "Do you really think she wouldn't take him from you in a heartbeat?"

            Her breath caught. She released it slowly to steady herself. "What would you know about love?"

            "You want his love, his devotion just as much as you crave his pain and blood. But he loves another, doesn't he? It's the same for all of them. They all love someone else. In the end, you destroy anyone who dares to love you. Because you are incapable of love."

            Killa swallowed but was again not listening. She was staring at Kormac as he collapsed near the enchantress and kissed her. It hurt more than the wound in her side had, more than healing it had. But as she watched, she found that her heartbeat was slowing. Tension was seeping from her body. And that cold, sharp grip of fear...faded.

            "You know nothing of love," she said as she slowly rose back to her feet. She flipped the switch that collapsed the crossbows and slid them into place beside the quivers on either thigh. "If you did, you'd know that when you love someone..." Reaching back, she finally drew the longbow free. "...you can let them go." One hand fell to her belt and she drew a small sphere from a pouch.

            "That is why I know...I am no demon!" she stated as she threw the last of her grenades into the midst of the illusion. It exploded the moment it touched the ground.

            The shadowy wind howled around her as the entire place shattered. Letting it tear at her, she drew a longer arrow as the sand and flying bits of blade-like earth shredded the cloth covering the bow. Spreading her fingers, she let the wind take it as light flashed about her fist. The clone of the hunter staggered and started to run toward her, crumbling as its shape grew and twisted into the shade of Diablo.

            Bringing her arm up, she notched the arrow and aimed as the wind was pulled inward toward the fist gripping the bow. Shadow and sand spun about the arrowhead as she drew the string back and released. Sand, wind, shadow, and a shaft crackling with arcs of blue-white lightning pulled together to become a lance driving toward the shade. It reared back, trying to dive aside, but it was too slow. The arrow punched a hole straight through the dark chest to erupt out the back, dragging the howling winds and sand with it to scour the hole larger.

            Freezing in a rictus of agony, the shade crumbled and fell to chaff on the roaring winds. They raised an eerie howl and grew stronger, closing toward her. But she already felt a tug. Looking down, she watched the lines of her own blood form a circle beneath her feet as shadow rose and enveloped her. Crimson eyes flashed in the darkness before she was pulled from the dark realm and thrown into the light.

            "NO!" Diablo roared as she landed easily on her feet before him once more. "This wretched light must be eradicated!"(8)

            In the time she had been gone, the corruption had grown. It tainted both visible rises of the crystal arch and had nearly blackened the chamber completely. But there was still light emanating from the crystal. Weak, sluggish, but there. She was not yet too late. And as Diablo stormed toward her, body pulsing with a familiar crimson light coming from his chest, she found that she was balanced. Rage, hatred, shadow, it was all there and waiting for her command.

            "Come on!" she roared and loosed another arrow.

            This time, the Prime was not fast enough to dodge. The arrow struck his right thigh and the wind twisting around it made it spin, tunneling into his leg until the barbed head broke through the back. Roaring, he launched a fireball toward her. Vaulting away, she fired again before diving behind the rise of crystal she was closest to. It gave her a moment to reach back and tug the braided cord free of the quiver, snapping it to the base of the arrow and dropping the rest nearby.

            In an explosion of shadow, Diablo was suddenly right on top of her. Throwing herself to the side, she landed on her back, sliding across the floor. Her arrow was fired and again the wind spun it hard so it struck the back of his shoulder and burrowed into his chest. Roaring, Diablo spun and brought one foot down hard on the ground, releasing a fiery shockwave from his body. Flipping upright, she landed atop the crystal and slung her bow up to hook over her shoulder so both hands could grab the cord.

            Giving a powerful jerk, she caught Diablo off balance. It was just enough for her to drop down between the hole in the floor between floor and crystal. Although her weight was not enough to yank the Prime off his feet, it did force him to stagger closer. Looping the end of the cord about the projections, she tied it off and climbed upward. Since she had not fallen far, it was easy to climb up two feet then vault up onto the floor.

            The Prime thrashed against his restraint--apparently it was not plain rope that Haedrig had made since it was not breaking easily. Strafing across the floor, she moved around as she grabbed the crossbows from her thighs and brought them up. They snapped into place and she fired. The shower of bolts drove into the demon's body and made Diablo roar before jerking forward to unleash a wave of flame after her.

            Breaking into a full sprint, she put further distance between her and the Prime. Suddenly, he was there in front of her. Reacting without thought, she dropped, turning her run into a slide taking her right between his legs. Dropping one of her weapons aside, she lurched up to grab the head of the arrow protruding from the back of his thigh. Using it as an anchor, she whipped her body around and planted one foot against his calf to jerk.

            The bloody thing pulled free as Diablo roared and his tail came down along with a giant fireball as he spun. She rolled so the tail struck her back and the added protection of her quiver. It sent her skidding out of the way of the fire and straight into another. Flames enveloped her as she flipped to her feet. They caught on the cloak and her hood, snapped the strings of her bows, snagging any other cloth she wore but did not catch the leather. Ripping her hood and cloak off, she started to move again only to have a clawed hand slam into her chest and send her flying.

            Striking the floor hard, she rolled and almost went into the very hole she had used the anchor rope on. Thrashing, she clawed at the ground. Her fingertips found purchase in the stone cracked by Diablo's forceful stomps and blasts. Dragging herself away from the edge, she rose to one knee before the tail was there again, slamming into her scarred side to send her flying. Fire hit her from behind and drove her face-first into the ground. Something cracked and popped. Pain exploded but her lungs lacked the air to scream.

            "All that you have known--all that you have ever loved--shall die along with you, nephalem."(9)

            Coughing, choking on her own blood as her body burned and her hair dragged over the charred flesh on the side of her face, she slowly pushed herself up to hands and knees. Lifting her head, she looked at the advancing Prime. One of her hands rose, swiping the back of a fire-seared glove across her mouth and smearing the blood there. But her eyes still burned with hatred as she made herself get to her feet regardless of the stabbing pain from shattered ribs and bones.

            "You...and your kind... You slaughtered my family," she gasped, gaining strength as she finally let her hatred slip its leash. "Murdered my mother..." Rage fed off her pain and the flames still licking at her legs and arms. "Butchered my father." Her blood began to glow and flare with light in time to the steady beat of her heart. "Killed my sister!" Shadow shuddered in the corners and moved toward her like blood.

            "Everything that I knew. Everything that I loved. Is already dead."

            Diablo smiled as he advanced, hands rising as flame flashed and formed, growing into great spheres of flame and corruption. "Then it's time that you join them, nephalem!"

            As she stood there, trembling, bleeding, watching the Prime advance...she felt the darkness within her unfurl like wings. Her broken and bleeding lips slowly transformed into a smile. Her heartbeat grew stronger, making the light from her blood pulse and flare. Shadow rose from the floor to wind around her legs, cling and climb her body toward the growing red light mirroring Diablo's own. Her arms rose slowly, ignoring the pain as broken ribs tore flesh. Darkness fell from above as if pulled away, sucked off the crystal arch to embrace her.

            For just a moment, Diablo hesitated--and Killashandra unleashed everything she had. Rage, hatred, pain, love, life, death. Darkness exploded from her body and extinguished the flames around her as it rose in a great column that spread out to form giant wings. Crimson light flared in the center of the column to illuminate a single point of blood and flame resting between her breasts and mirroring the glaring eyes burning through the blackness. Then it collapsed and parted as bloodied shadow swept away from her back to fan the air.

            Killashandra embraced her own darkness. It was not the mere illusion or spell as had been used to fool Cydaea. This was the true form of her power...the very thing she had feared for so long and finally faced. And as Diablo called forth his flame, the living embodiment of Vengeance before him drew the daggers from shadow-locked boots. Red flared along their edges as gold burned along the hearts of the blades--just as it did in those red eyes. As one, the two adversaries charged. The Pinnacle of Heaven erupted in an explosion of fire...


	43. Who Will Save You Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Who Will Save You Now?" by Les Friction

            Everything was dark. Not the blend of shadow and light that hinted at shapes and shades. It was pure darkness. No light. No color. Nothing. The only thing present was the heat. It was everywhere in the void. It clung like skin with a smoldering hunger. No pain. No pleasure. No order. No chaos. No end. No beginning. But unlike prior experiences, she was not lost within it. Killashandra was in the darkness because she was part of it. And nothing else mattered.

            She was at peace. It was a moment where Time simply did not exist. Not even memory could touch her in the void as she let herself exist as part of it. If this was to be her fate, it was hardly unpleasant. It simply was. And she simply was. Never had she ever imagined such an event horizon. Once it was upon her however, it...was...

            Then something intruded. Its source should have been nonexistent yet still the something existed. And it had found her in the dark. Like a voice, unspoken words, emotions, music...something that had no name and no manner of description until it jolted a limited perception into understanding it. That was when she realized it was a thought--or thoughts. Something that felt so familiar it should have been her own, but had no place in this existence.

_Alone with this vision..._

_Alone with this sound..._

_Alone in my dreams..._

_I carry around..._

            She knew these words somehow, but they were not just words. There were deeper things with them that could never be explained. It was...her. But more than that, it was beyond her thoughts and feelings. It was the very base of what had driven her onward, making her survive and continue through life. This was...her soul. And it was reawakening memory as it unfurled like ashen leaves, crumbling about the edges with every motion yet too solid to collapse.

_Alone with this vision..._

_Alone and blind..._

_It's not in my mind..._

_It's here at my side..._

            Thunder was there. Sound, vibration, warmth. Even as it began to gain strength in her awareness she knew what it was: a heartbeat. It was her heartbeat. The moment she became aware of it, she realized how it was not actually strong but faint, weak. The beat was not steady, it was failing. Around her, that skin of heat grew more intense as she had a measure to compare it to in the heartbeat.

_Nothing can change unless you believe..._

_I won't let it go..._

_I'll fight 'til the end..._

_And then you will know..._

            Failing heartbeat, growing heat. Then she opened her other senses as she realized that the void she had resided within was a deception. The dark had wrapped around her and made her deaf, dumb, and blind to what was coming. Fire ate along her flesh as her lungs burned and liquid bubbled with every half-aborted breath her body took. Even as the darkness rose to try and pull her back into its protective embrace, she chose to fight it.

_I will not take from you,_

_And you will not owe._

_I will protect you from the fire below._

_Go tell the world that I'm still alive!_

            Pain consumed her so suddenly it almost sent her diving back into that refuge in the dark. Almost. Now that she had regained her grasp on life, she fought against the pain and forced it away from her to reach beyond it. The effort left her feeling drained. Then her lungs seized and she was aware of a surge of liquid filling her chest before a cough jolted her body and caused shattered bone to shred flesh further.

_Tell the world I'm alive..._

_Who will save you now...?_

_Who will save you now...?_

_Tell the world I will survive!_

            It was hard to tell if her limbs moved or if it was just her mind willing them to so hard it felt as if they did. She knew her eyes were open because she did feel them burning with salt and thought she blinked. Darkness remained. Noting it, she continued to focus on trying to move. Memory returned with every throbbing, stabbing pain as her dying body raged around her. Within that memory, she saw the Lord of Terror's chest broken open like a beetle's shell, exposing the black heart to her blood-soaked hands as they closed upon it...

            Suddenly, everything exploded as she moved. Lungs seized in effort to avoid filling with air as liquid and fire washed over her, drowning her beneath them. The new sensation was so alien it took her an eternity to identify the feel of arms around her, beneath her. Someone had lifted her, picked her up. But it was not--could not be--Diablo. It was the warmth of a sun--cool in comparison to the fire that consumed her--with promise of something she could barely remember save it was good and the most wonderful feeling in the world.

            Just as she felt it wrap around her, the pain eased and she felt the need to fight off the consumption of her body fade away. Lingering in that battle for a moment, something about the presence of sunlight reassured her. Then, the side of her face that did not burn came to rest against a coolness that triggered her muscles letting go. She slipped back toward the dark, feeling that it would be all right now...it was safe to fall into it because the sun was there...and it was...cool...

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            _One week later..._

            A caravan had finally made it safely to Bastion's Keep. The fresh supplies were in dire need and the survivors all felt hope strengthened further as medicine and food were shared. With the caravan came fresh and seasoned reinforcements as well. Although the King of Westmarch had denied sending aid to the Keep, mercenaries had heard of the plight. Even if it was already after the battle, there was always work for those of able body and ability so the guards could finally have a small rest.

            Tyrael had returned a few days before the caravan arrived to deliver some grave news to the anxiously waiting group of fighters. While they had been hastily returned to Sanctuary before Imperius could arrive to carry out his promises, the demon hunter's injuries had been so severe that the only hope for her survival had been in the hands of heavenly healers. They had been promised the golden angel would not touch her as the remaining two members of the Angiris Council and Tyrael himself would not stand for anything less than aiding her.

            When the mortal angel returned however, it was not to bring Killashandra back, but to deliver a very puzzling message: the demon hunter was gone. Shocked and initially outraged, Kormac's angry accusations resulted in Tyrael giving them what remained of the hunter's burnt and bloody armor, and the ruined crossbows. The templar barely contained himself in his rage at what he saw as another betrayal by someone he trusted. Even Eirena and Lyndon felt the same way although the scoundrel was far less aggressive about it and the enchantress was polite as always.

            In the end, regardless of how they felt, they could do nothing but mourn the loss. Tyrael had to return to the Heavens to assume his new position. The Crystal Arch had called to him, drawing him to assume the mantle of Wisdom and reinstating him amongst the Angiris Council--although it left a void in the place of Justice. It meant that the three were at last on their own. And now that they had reached the end of their quest...none of them really knew what to do. They were left adrift and grieving for their fallen friend.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            With the bustle of fresh, new life amidst the keep, it was oddly difficult to find a spot to sit quietly. The area that they had used for their personal little quarter during the battle had been invaded by the surviving children as the only place they could play without getting under foot of the adults. It should have given him something pleasant to see. Instead, all he seemed capable of doing was wanting to be alone and out of the chaos. He did not even truly know why he stayed at the keep other than...perhaps hope that maybe he would see a familiar, missing face.

            Kormac had actually sought refuge in the Armory where their things had been moved. Eirena had taken the small tack room where Leah had been quartered... Lyndon just hung around but was more often than not, gone. Even with the beautiful ladies around, the scoundrel had seemed oblivious to them and it had worried the enchantress and mildly concerned the templar. But he had a good idea about just why the scoundrel was gone. Just because he did not like the thief did not mean he could not understand wanting to be alone.

            The straw that had been spread over the floor to help insulate the stone against the chill served as his bed and also seemed to help muffle the noise. It was the illusion of privacy in the midst of everything else. The templar had an oil lantern sitting on a barrel behind one shoulder to give him enough light to read the tome resting open on his knee. And he had been reading...before the words just ceased to matter and he simply stared through the book.

            "Ah, excuse me," came an unfamiliar voice. It pulled him out of the grip of melancholy to draw his attention to the one approaching. No, the two approaching.

            "Yes?" the templar asked.

            He regarded the man coming toward him. Long, heavy robes in a variety of colors and a style that spoke of Caldeum. The heavy hood and cloth wound about the man's neck and head for added warmth also gave it away. He looked every inch the merchant he was save that he had a pack on his back rather than having an apprentice or servant carrying it. It made the templar turn his attention to the second figure and he blinked.

            It was a woman. But she was not some camp follower or wife. Her garb was dark leather with fire-blackened plates stamped into it. No hint of mail or chain. She was long of leg and arm with thick belts crisscrossing her chest. It did not take a genius to see the weapons there or pick up on the fact this was no mere companion. This woman was a bodyguard if not something far more lethal. Perhaps one of the mercenaries that had escorted the caravan safely. Like the man, she had a hood with another wrap of thick cloth bound around her head and face so only her eyes were visible.

            Feeling a pang of grief and another of regret, he realized how much she reminded him of another woman in dark leather. Only, this one was not his Shandra. She had no bows, no arrows, only blades and more blades. Kormac shook away those thoughts to look back to the merchant as the man took a deeper breath to speak.

            "I was told by the blacksmith that you may be interested in an item I obtained a few months ago."

            "I am not interested in any wares, sir. And I honestly doubt I could afford the price for what you have anyhow," the templar said, making himself turn back to the book on his knee.

            "You misunderstand," the fellow replied and drew Kormac's attention back to him. "I am not seeking a sale. The item I have is one that...I am led to believe one of the Templar Faith would prefer be in their hands."

            Kormac stared at the man blankly. Not certain what was being implied, he frowned as the merchant shifted. His bodyguard moved forward to grab the pack with one hand and brace it as he slid free and dropped it to the floor. Digging as the woman stepped back to give him room, the merchant rummaged around before pulling something free. And when he turned back, Kormac's eyes widened in shock.

            Even if he had never seen the legendary relics of his order, he had heard about them for so long it was nearly impossible not to recognize it. The item would have seemed worthless to anyone else save perhaps a blacksmith. But even in the dull light of the lantern, the templar could see the metal shimmer and flash over the broken edges. Once, it had been part of a magnificent sword. Now, it was but a shard of a shattered weapon. It still held the holy magics within the metal and flashing along the sigils engraved into the blade.

            "Where did you find that?" Kormac breathed.

            Pleased, the merchant smiled. "While traveling through the lands near a village named Tristram, I came upon the ruins of the older village. A sinkhole and fall later, I found this on my way out of the pit. My bodyguard has translated the whole symbols...would you like to know what it says?"

            The merchant held the item out freely without the reservation or show normally associated with those of the class seeking to pawn off their wares. Kormac was so shocked at seeing the relic he failed to notice the small detail. Reaching out, he hesitated just shy of touching the metal. After a moment, his fingers brushed the etched flat of the blade section and lifted it from the open hand. Light flickered instantly, surging and flashing around his fingers and spreading a warmth up his arm.

            "I'd never thought to see one of these relics, and to find one..." he trailed off, quickly regaining his composure as he looked to the merchant. "I don't recognize the inscriptions, how did you translate it?"

            Letting the item fall into the waiting grip, the merchant merely motioned toward the woman standing behind his shoulder. "Mercenaries aren't always uneducated savages you know."

            "What do they say? I might be able to identify it from any phrases," Kormac said.

            He saw the merchant smile before the man straightened--and he spoke with a voice that echoed with power.

**_"_** ** _Lux sancta nos, et grandinem. Lava corruptione. Gaudete in maledictum. Mundare eius animam."_** (1)

            It was as if he was deafened. Light grew within his hands, swelling outward. It pierced his eyes and drove relentless blades into his mind. Gasping, the templar went rigid in shock as the magic drown him beneath it. The light was so intense it burned, eating through his body and reaching deep as if it was hunting something. Something that was dark and twisted, vicious and poisoned. Kormac was unable to cry out as whatever the light touched burned away and something he had not even been aware of broke.

            When the light faded, he found he was staring toward the loft over his head. The force of whatever spell used upon him had knocked him away from the sacks of feed to sprawl flat on his back on the straw. His chest was heaving as if he had been running miles rather than a few heartbeats of assault from magic. No, not just magic, holy magic. Things were starting to become clear as memories he had thought he simply brushed off rose with entirely different emotions attached.

            Every step taken from the Old Tristram Cathedral through Caldeum and across Bastion's Keep into Arreat Crater then up through the High Heavens replayed. He watched as if from a dream the moment he first saw Killashandra, the accident where his shield struck and broke her arm, the battles they engaged in. It tormented him once again as he saw his fear overtake him in the spider-infested caves, the drive to be punished and purified for failing to withstand his own fear, the night on the sands as the lash tasted his blood and flesh.

            Then he remembered hearing something. Something other than the crack of the whip. Something other than his hitching breaths and racing heart. Something other than the grunt from the hunter when the exertion began to take its toll. He heard her voice where it had been lost under his own consuming shame, pain, and relief at every new stripe taken from his body. She had been chanting--and it was a chant he had heard before as he struggled to resist the crushing magic of the cultists that had been intent on twisting him into another Jondar.

            He understood...and saw every moment of his own reactions tainted from that moment on. The need for the pain, the looks she gave him, the way she reacted when he first saw Eirena, the behavior before and after she chose Lyndon over him, his own black emotions over the issue. It all pulled into separate parts and he realized why he had been consumed by anger and darkness. He had been a fool--the cultist magic had not been thrown off so easily--and his true moment of weakness had never been facing the fear of spiders.

            Kormac rushed through the following memories until he came to the tower and the first time that sinful lust struck him. Hearing her scream, feeling it should have been him screaming for her--the corrupted curse that had clung to him all this time. The reason why it was almost too easy to choose to kneel before her in the crater, his own lack of true aversion to seeing the way the human pets had behaved, why he had remained on his hands and knees to obey her commands even though he had been freed...it all made sense at last.

            And the time in the cave...even remembering lit a fire within him as he lay there, staring at the boards over his head. But...there was no darkness there save her own. No compelling need to give into his base desires as there were on all other occasions. That moment in the cave...was pure. There was no change in the emotions or the events they were so powerfully bound to. Not until the arrival in the Heavens and the dark emotions boiling within him until he donned the holy armor and they were mostly silenced.

            Suddenly, he blinked and realized he was staring up into the bodyguard's eyes. They were gray like shards of ice-locked stone. No...not just gray, blue...and green...and amber. Kormac stared into those eyes and he saw...a flicker of gold shimmer in the black pupils. The meaning...robbed him of breath. She had to have heard it because a voice emerged, rough and dark...alien to his ears as if the woman had screamed herself hoarse.

            "I should have seen it a long time ago." A hand covered in rich suede moved to caress his cheek, but he found he could not move. "That day I tried to drive you off using the cultist's magic as an excuse, I should have known why I thought of it. Even as strong as you are, fighting their magic for so long, it was beginning to take you over, Kormac. I was so blind..."

            The templar tried to speak, so much rushing to the fore to say: accusations, rage, pain, sorrow, denial, inquiries. But aside from parting his lips, he could do no more. That was when he realized whatever magic had been evoked from the relic's power still held him trapped in some way. He was bound and silent, only able to hear, see, and feel. Her gloved thumb caressed his jaw and brushed over his parted lips to follow the corner of his mouth.

            "Now, the least I can do is make things right. I'm sorry it took me so long. I already know, betrayal can never be forgiven. But for what it's worth...you can blame all of it on me. I'm strong enough to take it...if you ever happen to remember."

            Withdrawing her hand, the woman straightened and he saw she held the relic. She lowered it against his chest and he felt her move unresponsive arms up so his hands were folded over it. Then, her voice emerged rough and coarse, but with an all-too-familiar richness. Power flared blindingly from the relic, passing through gaps in his still hands and fingers, rising to play over the dark garb and reflect sun-lit gold in her gaze.

            **_"Lux custodeum. Lux salveum."_** (2)

            Kormac struggled against his unresponsive body even as he felt the warmth of the light begin bleeding through him far more slowly than the first flare. Within that warmth was a cooler touch as different from the curse as ice was from sand. It seemed to twine with the light then slip beneath it as it wrapped around his thoughts. The sensation of warmth followed to cradle him as he felt something...slip away like an elusive thought.

            " ** _Tenebrae custos. Tenebris silentio."_** (3)

            When he tried to grasp it, he saw/felt/heard her in his arms in the crater as she kissed him--slip away. His kneeling form as he held her--slid from his grasp. Her tongue and lips trailing across his bleeding back--fell into shadow. Light warmed the strange sensation of emptiness behind and started to turn the void into a dream-like blur of sensation instead of memory.

            "...no..." he managed to breathe past barely twitching lips. She did not seem to hear him.

            **_"Tenebris diligentibus se. Signa eius memoria."_** (4)

            Realizing what was happening, he began to fight, purposely latching onto his memories of every tender moment they shared that was more than friendship. He struggled to hold onto the sensation of how her hand felt cupping him through cloth. He raged to protect the memory of her body beneath his, rising up to take him, of her tight wetness clenching around his fingers. He fought to cling to the scent of her breaths caressing his flesh. It all darkened and pulled away as if a dream being lost to the rising sun following in night's wake.

            " ** _Tolle peccatum. Sub umbra eum."_** (5)

            Her chant continued as he finally twitched, one hand lurching away from the relic as numb fingers fumbled. Light had half blinded his vision as he reached out to grope like a child in the night. Something was under his palm as nerves registered cloth. Sluggish fingers pulled and he felt bare flesh. He heard a sharp inhalation and there was a hitch in the rhythm of the chant. For an instant he could see again...and he cupped her cheek.

            "...Shandra..."

            Those vaguely glowing eyes were shimmering but not with light. Molten fire stung his skin as the tear fell to wet his flesh. But she did not stop for his plea. Even as she stared into his eyes. Even as he lost his sight behind a veil of white light. Even as he screamed inside and tried to wrap himself around the last piece of memory to hold onto the touch of her hand against his neck, her breath caressing his chin through the visor, the near-physical sensation of her lips pressing against the metal before she pulled away...it was gone.

            **_"_** ** _Somnium amoris...Kormac."_** (6)

            At last, his hand fell away from her cheek as the white light chased the shadow down from his eyes. It followed it deep and buried all memory of what had been tainted deep in his mind. The templar's eyes slowly drifted closed as the light faded from the relic and he slid into sleep. Her hands slid away from his as she slowly made herself pull back and rise once more. Straightening slowly due to the sharp pains stabbing through her chest from every hitching breath, she tried to clear her mind and control her breathing.

            "Very well done, nephalem," the merchant said.

            Turning her head, the assassin-garbed hunter looked to the man. Without a word, she turned away. A hand moved to grip her shoulder as the merchant's guise fell away and ethereal tendrils of light rose from his back to curve and twist themselves together into slightly more solid wings. She tensed but did not shrug the hand away.

            "Thank you for your aid in this," was all she said.

            "It is the least I could do to thank you for saving my life. Twice," the angelic warrior said as he withdrew his hand after another moment.

            "He is free of the cultist's magic now?"

            The helm dipped once before he answered upon realizing she was not looking at him. "Yes. He is again pure of any outside influence...other than being human."

            "And what I did?"

            "Even I can see you did not mean to aid them. Whatever harm you did..."

            She shook her head, causing him to trail off. Then, taking a slow, deeper breath--leading into a sharp cough, she released it in a sigh after gathering herself. Turning back to him, she just regarded him wearily. He moved one glowing wing forward to sweep over her body and remove the illusion of the assassin's garb. She nodded once and turned to start limping toward the stairs that would lead to the battlements.

            "Where will you go from here?" the angel asked.

            "As long as the Burning Hells exist, there will still be evil, my friend,"(*) she said as she moved.

            "One nephalem against the Hells?" the angel asked even as his form began to fade from physical to bleed toward a thing of light drifting up from the floor.

            In the doorway, she stopped and turned to look back so only part of her face was visible. "Did you forget what I was before I was nephalem?"

            The angel hesitated.

            "I stand alone," her voice came strong and clear, losing the gravelly rasp. "And if they keep coming...I will never stop killing!"(7) Shadow suddenly exploded around her, lashed by an un-felt wind to rise in a swirling column around her form...and fade away to leave the doorway empty.

            "You made your choice,"(8) the angel said as he finally coalesced into a rising stream of light. "Demon Hunter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am entirely unfamiliar with Latin. I used Google Translator for the phrases found here--if they are incorrect, please feel free to correct me. I figure though, given the examples of chants in the game as translated on the forums...a little bit of difference isn't a bad thing given it's a game.  
> Translations:  
> (1) Light, upon us, and hail. Wash corruption. Break the curse. Clean soul.  
> (2) Light keep him. Light save him.  
> (3) Dark guardian. The dark silence.  
> (4) Dark love him. Signs of memory.  
> (5) Take sin. Under the shadow of him.  
> (6) Dream of love...Kormac.  
> Other:  
> (*) Direct quote from the game, used in a different spot from where it originates.  
> (7) Lines taken from the end of the Diablo 3 Demon Hunter Official Cinematic  
> (8) A line taken/twisted/inspired by aforementioned cinematic.


	44. Epilogue - Stubborn Scoundrel

            It was a fool's errand. Even as good as he was at deluding himself, he knew it. He had lived this long because he knew how to read people. Women were slightly easier than men but both eventually revealed secrets they never knew they broadcast. And this matter was hardly any different. Not to mention he was not a tracker or a hunter. He had no clue how to follow a trail or signs. So, in all eventuality, he was chasing a wild fancy rather than a living person. He was not going to give up. Not even if it meant he might just be rushing to his own death.

            No one had seen anything. The description of his search was met with no recognition from any caravan or traveler, the captains of the ships that ferried said caravans across the water inlet to save time and wear had not seen or heard of anything. Even the mercenaries that were lingering in the port city had heard and seen nothing regardless of how much gold he offered. It was the lack of any sign that kept him going in this direction. Somehow it was too perfectly quiet. And it made him edgy.

            He knew that the one he was trying to follow was probably aware of his presence. If not, it would surprise the both of them--if he ever caught up to her. She was the only one that could answer questions that left him very little peace of mind let alone permitted him to rest. Too many questions, too few answers. And after all that had happened, he would not bother his friends with this particular task. It was something he had to do himself if only to prove he could. But it had been over a week without a clue.

            Trudging through the forest, he kept a wary eye on the trees for any threats. The beasts and natives in this part of the land had steered clear of the caravans due to the numbers and the carts. Alone, he was a far more tempting and vulnerable target. Even if he had no solid sign he was going the right way, he did not want to be slowed or misdirected by an unexpected attack. An attack like the one that sprang on him in the form of a black-shafted arrow barely nicking the tip of his nose and striking the trunk of the tree to his left.

            Freezing, he caught his breath sharply and fought against the urge to dive for cover. If the quarrel was not from the target of his hunt, he was a demon's uncle. He had only ever seen those particular black shafts used by one person. The feathers were ragged and shimmered faintly blue-white where the bolt still vibrated in the grip of the trunk.

            "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you, Lyndon," came a voice so rough and weary he barely recognized it.

            "Curiosity?" he tried.

            "No. That's why I haven't killed you yet. Now, give me a reason why I should not kill you before I count to ten." Her voice did not seem to be coming from any particular direction so he had no clue where to look save to his right since that was where the arrow came from.

            "Killa...please, what's gotten into you?" he asked, pushing his habit of joking aside. The shot had not been an idle threat.

            "Go back to Kingsport, Lyndon. Take the gold I left you and go free your brother. Let the past lie."

            "And 'lie' is such an appropriate word. You're lying even now. They think you're dead!"

            "That was the intention. Why didn't you believe it?"

            "Because I saw you come back with one of them. And because I realized that Tyrael never outright said you were dead, only gone."

            Silence filled the air as he finished speaking. Remaining still, hands in sight, he waited. Leaves rustled finally and he cautiously turned his head toward the sound. In the shadows of the forest, a darker shape seemed to melt into view against a thicker trunk. Lyndon was no fool. He saw the crossbow raised and clearly placed in a shaft of dim sunlight just for his benefit. She was aiming at him.

            "Why did you follow me?"

            He was the one that remained silent for a few moments to consider her question. "I...had to. Something--a lot of things--simply didn't add up. That...and I figured if you were alive, you'd want your things back."

            "You little thief," she grumbled. "Do you remember what I said I'd do if you 'borrowed' my journal one more time?"

            "Yes. That's why I stole it back."

            A snort came from her shadowy figure. The crossbow wavered then lowered. Pushing away from the tree, she slowly stepped deeper into the gloom. Her free hand rose to give an idle wave. Thankful it was a signal to follow rather than an arrow flying toward his heart, he turned to follow her. Oddly, he caught up to her in five strides. She was moving extremely slow and careful as if...in pain.

            Her outfit had also changed. The armor looked like it was solid metal rather than leather. Its design was intricate with multiple pieces forming the feathers of sweeping wings embracing her arms and legs as well as resting open in front and in back of her shoulders. A heavy cloak of charcoal green was draped over her body so he could only assume the design continued. The hood was up, shadowing her face from his sight. But the metal was seared to a point it seemed more blackened bronze than onyx.

            Frowning, the scoundrel almost spoke up about the changes. There was enough hostility present in what he was picking up from her body language however that he wound up biting his tongue instead. She was being lenient and he was still alive. Both were bonuses in his opinion. An additional bonus was when he saw she was leading him toward a camp that had been established for more than one occupant if the layout was correct.

            Still moving like an injured thing, the hunter made her way to the spread bedroll. She set her weapons aside and lowered herself down with painstaking slowness. Lyndon found himself just standing in place watching as she settled herself leaning back against a brand new pack. Her breathing was increased and ragged.

            "Killa...what happened to you?"

            One gloved hand motioned to the side where there was clear space to unroll a second bedroll. At least he had been correct in believing she had known he was following. Clearing his throat, he moved to sit down near her rather than take the time to unpack his things. Her breathing slowly evened out and faded from his senses.

            "Angelic healers may be far beyond anything humans can do, but they are not human. And they cannot heal demons."

            "...how bad?"

            "Bad enough. Tyrael showed them how to best mend the broken bones. But...I suppose in the end I really have too much of a demon within me for much beyond that."

            "Is that your way of warning me not to peek?" he asked as he leaned forward slightly to peer at the hood.

            Her head rose and turned toward him. The shadow made her skin seem almost golden where it was glimpsed over the cloth covering her lower face. At least that much was familiar. "More or less. Now, ask your other questions. But don't expect long-winded answers."

            Lyndon was suddenly at a loss. Staring at one of his best friends and the most lethal lady he had yet encountered, everything he had wanted to ask fled from his grasp. All he could think about was seeing her without the cloak and armor to see how bad the damage was.

            "Why did you want us to think you were dead?" he finally asked.

            The hunter drew a slow, ragged breath. "I defeated Diablo himself. The source of my family's murder." Her breath hitched before she coughed, bowing her head. "And...I survived."

            She went silent and left him frowning in confusion.

            "I don't--"

            "I achieved a goal beyond my best hopes and wildest desires. I didn't plan to live." The hunter coughed again before reaching for the water skin near the pack she leaned against. "Tell me, Lyndon. Had they known I survived, would they have let me leave without following me?"

            He could feel the sharp look she sent at him and tried not to squirm. Clearing his own throat, he put on a charming smile and spread his hands. "Well, I'm far more a free spirit than they are. I go where I know the gold's at."

            "Lyndon," her voice was so rough it made him wince at the sound. "I made sure that you had enough gold to free your brother. Yet you're here."

            Sighing, the scoundrel shrugged and stared at the ring of stones where a fire was meant to be built. Realizing it was empty of any tinder, he almost leapt to his feet. "Right, well, this is going to take a while so since it's only a few hours before nightfall...I'll go...get some firewood. Stay put!"

            Without waiting for her to respond, he fled into the trees. He did not hear the heavy sigh or hitched breath as the hunter bit back a sound. She was still sitting there when he returned a time later with arms full of dry wood and arranged it. Casting repeated  looks toward her unmoving form, he got the fire started and hesitated before setting up his side of the camp. During the time, she still did not move.

            Only when twilight had descended did she stir. A sharper breath made Lyndon jump. Her head rose slowly as she shifted. It was clear she was in pain the way she first moved almost normally only to freeze and jerk into a more...cautious way of shifting. The hood rippled and he caught a split second's glimpse of the firelight making her face shine a deep gold.

            "Killashandra?" he asked softly.

            "Dozing. What else did you plan to ask?" she said in that weary, rough voice again.

            Rather than answer, he pulled his pack open and moved to rise to one knee, offering her a familiar-looking book. Studying it, she finally brought one arm up to reach out and take it from him without moving from her position. The scoundrel sank back down onto his own bedding to lean back.

            "I thought you might like it back."

            Placing the book on one of her armored thighs, she slowly bent her knee up to better see it. The cloak slid away to confirm his suspicions on her armor matching the feathery wings design. Watching her move, he was struck by the strangest memory of a grandmother he had once helped as a boy. At least the hunter still had the full-bodied lines rather than being ravaged by age. The motions were the same however as she opened the book to a random page.

            "So..." he started and her head rose toward him once more. "Why didn't you take Kormac with you when you left?"

            It brought an entirely new type of silence that confirmed a few of his thoughts. But he kept quiet so he did not tax her too much.

            "Because I lived."

            Lyndon frowned at her. "Which really is what everyone wanted--other than yourself. I don't understand why!"

            "It made everything complicated. If I had died, things would have been so much simpler."

            "Not for us!"

            "Yes, for you. All of you would have mourned and continued on with your lives. And don't try to tell me none of you would. I was there. I saw that Eirena was helping Tyrael. I saw Haedrig happy at work. I saw Shen busy entertaining the children with his silly stories and his jewels. I even saw you surrounded by beautiful women with gold in your pockets."

            The hunter broke off into another coughing fit. She reached for the water skin near her pack and started to bring it to her lips. Something made her stop and rest it on her lap near the book instead.

            "You left someone out of that list, Killa," he said quietly.

            "He would have been able to return to his Order, untarnished and pure. Hurael removed the last of the coven's curse from him. What happened between us...he would have kept locked away in his memories...had I died."

            "Wait, you mean you two...he actually...but when? HOW?!" the scoundrel demanded.

            "The cave. Whatever Eirena's angelic Prophet did...we...had more time than the rest of you."

            "I honestly didn't think the dullard had it in him. But then again, you are quite a woman, Killa."

            She did not respond to that. Although one gloved hand rested on the water skin, the other moved to turn another page of the book. Paper tore as she ripped it free and he caught a glimpse of that bold black chant before she crumpled it slowly in one hand and threw it into the fire to burn.

            "Why do that spell on him though? I already figured out what it did, and I can't figure out how or why you would betray him that way."

            "One, because although he may love me his heart is set on someone else...and both of us know that. Two, because betrayal can never be forgiven. At least not by him. And even if he should remember...what happened..." One of her shoulders rose slightly then fell in a tiny shrug.

            Lyndon released a sigh and rubbed his face with one hand. "You're a bloody fool, Killa. But like you said, I know that type of 'nobility' all too well."

            "Good."

            The quiet descended again for all of five seconds. The fire snapped and crackled. And Lyndon moved to rise and face her as she looked up. "I'll go see if I can't find something fresher than trail-food for supper."

            Nodding wordlessly in acknowledgement, the hunter watched him take his bow and quivers from their place beside his pack. He faded into the night-embraced forest with ease. And it was beyond her to tell him it would have been wiser to try hunting during daylight. It got him out of the way for a while and gave her some privacy to tend her current problems.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

 

            He had managed to snag a couple of stupid but decently sized rock shrews thinking their little nest was out of reach of predators.  Heading back to the camp, he wondered just what he was going to say to her next. Most of his questions had been answered save for two and she had made it clear one of those would not be answered. A sound from the source of light ahead made his head snap up. It was a sound of pain.

            Forgetting for a moment that Killashandra was still injured and not at full capacity, he broke forward from habit to see what she had encountered this time. When he ran into the camp however, nothing was there. Nothing but the hunter curled up in a ball with both hands over her face, whimpering in pain as she rocked back and forth. Her fingers alternated clawing at her face and clenching into fists against it.

            Without thinking of the danger, Lyndon dropped his things and dove to his knees beside his friend. The hood of her cloak was back and he could see her black hair was far shorter than it had once been, not even falling to her shoulders. His hands grasped her wrists--and she jerked her head up. Surprise made his eyes widen. It had not been golden skin he had glimpsed earlier but gold metal. Her face stared at him from a cold mask bearing only hollow black eyes. Beautiful and inhuman at once.

            "Get away!" she almost cried and it was the first time he had ever heard such pain and desperation from her.

            "Killa, stop! What's wrong? I can help."

            Collapsing into hitching sobs, she bowed her head, shaking it fiercely. Her hands were clenched into tight fists and he could feel tremors passing through her wrists. Easing his grip a little, he still pulled her hands away from her head.

            "It burns...I need...Lyndon, go away.....don't look...just go away!"

            Shaking his head, even as he wanted to do precisely what she said, he drew her arms down further. Whimpers rose but did not deter him even if it made small pains spike in his chest.

            "I'm not going anywhere. Let me help...come on...breathe, let me help...don't have to do this on your own..." he murmured even though he had no clue what he was trying to do.

            Eventually, she stopped resisting. "Don't say...didn't warn..."

            Confused, he was left kneeling there without a clue what to do. She tugged on his grip and he instantly released her arms. Trembling hands reached up to grip the sides of the mask. A golden crown held it to her head and provided protection for her skull at the same time. He leaned forward to help her de-tangle the short strands of hair from some of the elegant designs.

            Lifting the headpiece off, she kept her head bowed. He saw some traces of red on the interior of the mask as she set it down on the bedding near her knees. Very slowly, she lifted her head. Regardless of what he had seen in his travels with her, and of what he had prepared himself to see when warned of the severity of her injuries, he was not ready for what he saw. Most of her face was one great nightmare of burnt flesh.

            It was raw and a mess of white, red and yellow. Only one cheek and eye were untouched by whatever fire had struck her. Strangely, no scabs had formed and there were no bandages to be seen. Given the scarring vanished into her hair-line, he could only assume she had lost some of her hair and had it grown back when her bones were mended. Had he not been used to those stormy hazel eyes with their golden sheen, he would never have recognized her.

            "Killa..."

            "Don't. That...isn't actually my name." She was turning her head away from him and reaching for a kit he had not seen earlier. The small pack was open to display several vials of pale liquid.

            "It isn't?" Lyndon fumbled dumbly with his words. "Then, what is?"

            She had pulled a vial that was half-empty free and set it between her legs. Only then did she start a clearly painful process of removing a glove. Reaching out, he very gently stopped her with one hand. "Wait, just tell me what to do."

            Aside from her sob-hitched breaths, she was quiet. Then, she pressed the vial into his palm. "Wash your hands. Then cover them with this. Don't...touch me...without the liquid."

            Quickly, scrambling to hurry and save her further torment, the scoundrel went about doing just that. The liquid in the vials was thick and spread over his fingers like oil of some kind. In the firelight it had the slightest hint of a golden glow. When he turned toward her and his shadow fell over his fingers, he saw that the glow was part of the liquid itself. Hoping to everything he could think of that it would help, he tentatively began to touch her burnt face.

            A sharp breath and hiss made him jerk his hand away. But then he saw her relax a little as the pale gold light made the raw red fade more toward pink. Returning to his task, he took care to smear the stuff over every single inch of her face. More marks went down her throat and he wondered again at how extensive the damage was. At least she seemed to have remained mostly intact including her nose and lips--even if they were horribly distorted.

            "This is the other reason you snuck off, isn't it. You're in physical pain now. But...having to pretend around them...would hurt too much. You wouldn't be able to do it."

            "I love him, Lyndon."

            "I know," the scoundrel said.

            Finally, he had to withdraw as every injured part of her face was coated. She seemed to be breathing easier as well. When her eyes opened, he was relieved to be reminded they were both intact as well.

            "Shandra," she said.

            "Uh, what?" he asked stupidly.

            "My real name is Shandra. Killa...was my sister's nickname. Kilarah."

            As she spoke, she was carefully unfastening and removing her gloves and bracers, revealing one whole hand and one burnt one. She offered the injured one to him and he accepted it without protest to begin treating it as well. The liquid must have killed the pain as she relaxed more. Only then did he begin to understand just how tense she had been.

            "After what happened...I decided that...maybe I couldn't have saved her, but she would help me to kill the things that took the rest of our family. So, when I started training to become a Demon Hunter, I called myself Killashandra. Only my mentors ever knew differently."

            Lyndon shifted when she used her good hand to reach up and work the straps of the armor free. Although he was curious about the extent, he found a part of him also did not want to look. If he was having such difficulty, he shuddered to think how Kormac might have reacted in his place. That thought alone made him decide he was not going to tell the templar. Nor was he going to return as he told them he would. Not now.

            "Why tell me this now?" he asked as he began to spread the liquid over the arm she had bared. The armor had been crafted with so many pieces it would have been a mess had he tried removing it without her knowledge.

            "Because...Diablo is dead. And he made me realize something during the battle."

            She had managed to unfasten the shoulders and loosen the chest-piece. Lyndon paused once more, swallowing hard as he fought against the two desires within--to look and not to look. It was going to be bad. And he was not overly disappointed when she finally did bare her torso to him. The burns were a random splash over her chest, spreading across her breasts beneath the black bra and reaching down over her ribs and stomach. Here there was also nasty purple-black bruising that he knew meant a lot of broken bones.

            "And...what's that?" he made his brain work on the question as he took the vial to spread more of the glowing liquid over his fingers and get to work.

            "When you truly love someone...you can let them go," she said with only a few hitches in her words. "I can let my sister rest now, with my family."

            His brown eyes met her pain-shadowed hazel ones as he paused his work. "And...Kormac?"

            "Has his dreams set on a certain enchantress. One without a home, outside of her own time, without anything planned beyond what has been accomplished. That...combination alone..."

            Her words trailed off only for a hiss to rise. Looking up, Lyndon saw a glisten of liquid that was not the oil he was using. His hand beat her own to brush a slick thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tear. Eyes closing, she released her breath in a rush and almost slumped. It further confirmed his suspicions that the burning comment was due to the salt of her tears burning the barely-healed skin.

            "I still think you're an idiot, Shandra."

            "You aren't the only one. But...what's done is done. And I have something else to do."

            Both brows rising, Lyndon watched her unfasten the armor over her boots and set it aside, working on the legs then carefully removing sections of the leather beneath. Apparently only one leg had been burnt like her upper body had and just around the calf and knee with a couple inches up the thigh. He carefully spread the liquid over it without comment.

            The moment he was done, she began to re-dress herself. It did not seem to cause her any undue pain so he chose to clean the remaining stuff off his hands. Smears of pink were on his hands as well, attesting to what he had already seen on the inside of her mask. The wounds were so barely healed even small touches were enough to make them bleed. Her armor was likely angelic in nature since she seemed to be able to wear it without trouble.

            "Okay, so just what is this grand new adventure you've got your wild heart set upon?" he tried to lapse back into his comfortable self.

            Her head rose and he could only meet her eyes for a few moments before the ruin of her face made him look away. It was...painful to see and remember how it had looked. There was just enough beauty left to bring what he knew forward each time. She did not seem to mind that he could not stand looking at her very long...and for that he was glad. Not that he would continue that path, it would just take some time to get used to it.

            "You cannot follow where I am going, Lyndon. Not this time."

            "Why not? I've followed you into Heaven and would have gone into the Hells themselves had you not taken the templar with you. Why, I even waded through the muck in those sewers four times to follow you!"

            "Because, you are not nephalem."

            "Don't tell me you're going back to that temple?" the scoundrel said, remembering the first time he had run into her.

            Her head dipped forward slightly rather than let her shorn hair touch the burns. Combing the short strands back, she motioned to the shrews he had cast aside in his haste to get to her side. Without thinking about it, he picked them up to start preparing them. Before, he had groused when it came to camp-chores. Only something like a lady being hurt would prompt instant compliance from him. That and his own rumbling stomach.

            "It seems that...Fate...made something fall into my hands," she said as he started gutting and cleaning his kill. Looking up, he saw her pull an object from her pack and turn it so it flashed in the firelight. "And since I am still healing, it will be a simple task of revisiting Alaric to find out what this artifact is."

            The object was about as big as her palm. Primarily round and the white of marble, there were several elegant protrusions coated in gold that made it look like a runic form of a compass star. There were many smaller sigils and runes arranged around the inner circle and a single yellow-amber stone in the center. If he was any judge of treasure, the artifact was worth a lot of money to someone.

            "I've certainly never seen anything like it before," he said as he got the shrews skewered and arranged over the fire to cook.

            By the time he looked back to her, she had redressed herself save for her masked helm. That she held lightly on the thigh he was pretty sure had not been touched by fire. Nodding once, she turned to tuck the item back into her pack. Lyndon watched with the random thought that she was likely the only person who could truly say had no need to worry about him stealing anything valuable from. The journal did not really count since he always returned it anyhow.

            "I think the ghosts of the nephalem may be able to identify it. If they are willing. Which is why you cannot follow me this time."

            He had actually anticipated and expected her to try and get rid of him. Looking back to her, he locked his eyes with hers and ignored the ruin of her face.

            "Like it or not, Ki--Shandra, I'm coming with you," he held up a hand the moment her lips parted. "Hear me out, please. I'm actually being serious for once and I don't expect to do it again so just enjoy the moment."

            She settled back a little in clear indication she would listen.

            "I know I'm not Kormac or a templar. So it probably will be difficult for me to follow you. But you took him and Leah into that place and emerged without trouble--if what you told me is correct. I can take care of myself. And right now, you need someone to help take care of yourself since you are still healing. Now, I already made up my mind to stick with you. A little bit of burned skin and blood is not going to stop me."

            "A quarrel through your leg or shoulder would."

            "Yes, but only for a little while. I know where you're going. And if you really want to get me killed, trying to leave me behind is the best way to do that since I'd be trying to follow you anyhow."

            He was not entirely sure since it was hard to read her injured face, but he thought her lips curved just a little bit. It was her eyes that expressed the amusement he thought he saw there. Releasing a sigh, she shook her head.

            "Fine. You can tag along. But don't say I never warned you to go away."

            "Perfect. Now, if there's nothing else I can help you with...?" he peered at her.

            She shook her head. "No. The oil's doing its job and the armor's resumed its task. I'm fine for a few more hours."

            "Marvelous! Then let's get to fleshing out our meager little meal with some of the finest wine I've ever had the fortune of tasting. Those merchants never knew what a steal it was!"

            The hazel eyes rolled slightly and he knew she would be smiling even if her lips did not move further. When he set to digging the bottle out, he saw motion out of the corner of his eye. She had picked her journal up again. Apparently the book had been knocked aside during whatever attack had hit her earlier. Humming to himself, he worked on the bottle's cork. Sure enough, she looked toward him then tore something from the book out.

            Crumpling it as she had the first page she tore free, she tossed it toward the fire. It did not quite make it into the flames but bounced off one of the thicker branches to fall just inside the stone ring. Turning, he offered her the open bottle as she closed her journal to accept it. When she occupied herself with pouring a bit into her own cup, he turned the cooking shrews and swiftly snatched the smoldering paper to pocket it.

            None the wiser, she took a small sip of the wine and made what he thought could be a grimace at the flavor. But she had once told him she did not like such drinks. As they ate, he held his curiosity at bay. When finished, she washed the red-smeared skin around her mouth clean and re-applied the liquid to it before replacing her headdress. Pulling the hood of her cloak up, she tugged the front of it through the space between the golden mask and the sun-style crown resting over it.

            "Lyndon," she said as she eased herself further down to lay flatter.

            "Hm?" he mumbled around a mouthful of wine.

            "You said...that you stole my journal back. Who did you steal it from?"

            "Kormac," he said softly.

            "I thought as much. Should I wake you at any time, my apologies in advance."

            "If I can sleep through the templar's snoring, I'm sure I can sleep just fine through an earthquake."

            "Good night," was all she said in return.

            Once he was certain that she was asleep--difficult to tell since her breathing was still rather ragged and strained--he turned his attention to the rescued paper. Taking his time in case she was a light sleeper due to her injuries, he unfolded it so the paper would not make much noise. Another hard look in her direction and he bowed his head to read the writing on it. Even a blind man could tell it was not her handwriting...


	45. The End

_Shandra,_

_I feel as if I am violating your trust by writing this in your journal, but I cannot help it. I pray you forgive me. After we returned, I saw that thief snatch it from your pack. I know it has not been the first time and I must confess that I know this because he once showed it to me. At the time it was but the last entry containing information about nephalem. He tempted me to read more but I did not. This time however, you were not here. I retrieved it for safe-keeping. Maybe more._

_Tyrael returned yesterday to tell us you were gone. I thought he meant you had already returned. Then he showed us your armor. I know that we freed Hope, but in that moment, I again felt its loss. Never before have I felt the way I do now. Even doubting my faith, my order, myself...it is nothing compared to losing you. And the worst part is, I never said the most important thing I needed to say before you were gone._

_When I saw the angel's shield come alive to protect you, I should have said it. When trapped in that foul magic just steps away from Diablo, I should have told you before you left. But I think that, I should have said it before then. I should have said it in the cave when it was just the two of us by the fire. So many things I was too blind, too proud, maybe even too afraid to say...that it seemed like you knew without having to hear it._

_What I tried to say on the way back to the Keep was that, making love to you was no sin. It was just that, love. Not pleasures of the flesh, even if it was very...um... My point is, it wasn't a sin. It felt like no sin. It could not have been a sin. How could love ever be compared to sin? That is what you tried to tell me, isn't it? That darkness is hate and death but light is love and life. I saw that light in your eyes._

_I was wrong about so many things, Shandra. And now, it's too late to correct them. You're gone. All I have left is this part of you that you left behind. And with it is another reason to be thankful Leah pushed you to starting it. Without this part of you...I... I will keep it safe for as long as I draw breath. And in case you should ever return, this is my oath in writing to that end. I find myself praying that you do return, even if the hope of it is...fading._

_I love you, Shandra._

_Yours,_

_Kormac_

 

            Hellspawn! The letter had to have been written before Shandra had returned to do whatever magic she had done to the templar. It had been very clear to Lyndon that something had changed in Kormac after the hunter had departed. Where the man had been silent and withdrawn while preferring solitude to company, once she and the angel had gone he had returned to being his order-obsessed self. Even Eirena had noticed something unusual.

            And now Lyndon was sharing a camp with a very alive if not overly well Shandra, who had already done serious damage to what might have been between the two of them. She was set on her personal quest while Kormac had returned to making gaga eyes at the enchantress and stumbling and bumbling his way around her--and any women nearby. What was a scoundrel to do?


End file.
